


Sins of Nar Shaddaa

by Unbound_Silvered_Tongues



Series: Vale: Jedi Outcast [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crime Fighting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Graphic Description, Gun Violence, Jedi, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Mystery, Organized Crime, Original Character(s), Podracing (Star Wars), Romance, Smut, Swoop Races (Star Wars), Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unbound_Silvered_Tongues/pseuds/Unbound_Silvered_Tongues
Summary: An outcast of Luke Skywalker's new Jedi Order struggles to do right by his own moral compass while battling against the grave injustices plaguing the galaxy. Often tempted by the allure of all things sinful in the underworld, Arden Vale aims to keep his head above the tides while also seeing through his self-direct mission.Dark and grungy, the story explores the seedy underground of places like Nar Shadda, along with the vast criminal syndicates which thrive in power vacuums torn open by the Empire's defeat.
Relationships: Arden Vale/Xaria Kaval
Series: Vale: Jedi Outcast [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108271





	1. A Foot in the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden Vale dives headfirst in the underworld of Nar Shaddaa, a den of corruption and depravity, but a place where he has committed to a mission.

####  **[Chapter I: A Foot in the Door]**

######  _Nar Shaddaa_

“Arden, stop. Find the balance! Arden!” 

Skywalker’s voice had certainly been heard, but the words were too far beyond reach to make any impact. The roar of the crowd filtering in from the periphery and the sickening crunch of bones snapping beneath Arden’s fists drowned out the influence of any further words of caution that might have followed. Skywalker’s voice was as far away and out of mind as the man himself. 

The devaronian that Arden had been grappling with broke free and stumbled backwards. A fatal move of desperation. Arden darted forward and leapt, legs wrapping around the giant’s waist, one hand gripping at the left hand horn, and his other hand balling into a fist. He drew his arm back and then sent a swift and merciless jab straight into the brawler’s throat; he could feel the orange skinned alien’s larynx crumble under the impact, and the results which followed manifested instantly.

Scintillating flashes of light bloomed around the edges of the ring as Arden dropped to his knees and straddled the suffocating devaronian’s body which had collapsed, and was now sprawled out beneath him. A small recording drone closed in and captured the moment in all of its gorey glory. A low, near primal howl tore from Arden’s mouth as he rained down another half dozen blows; his knuckles were bruised, and the joints and bones in his fingers were already aching from the force of his punches, but he didn’t stop. 

Arden would never admit it himself, but he’d given in to the rage. 

Sharp edged cheekbones cut through the flesh of his victim’s face. The landscape of facial features shifted and fractured, buckling beneath the unrelenting assault that went far beyond what had initially been advertised as a civilized bloodsport for gamblers.

A hand clutched at Arden’s shoulders to pull him away, but it took the addition of the referee’s other three arms wrapping around his body to completely drag him off of the devaronian. Both hearts in Arden’s chest were pounding away, sending hot blood surging through every inch of his muscle wrapped body. The stench of blood and sweat and spit and spilled drinks and unwashed scoundrels in the grungy warehouse arena choked out the clean air brought in by the recyclers, but even that horrid miasma couldn’t dim the euphoria and adrenaline which flooded through Arden’s veins. 

Another roar broke free as he thrust his fists into the air.

The crowd erupted with manic glee and their wall shaking cheers carried into even the locker rooms one floor below on the far side of the warehouse.

Xaria eyed the shadow cloaked doorway through which she’d entered a few moments earlier; she could hear the ruckus as clearly as if she were in the arena chamber. She swiftly turned her attention back to the long row of locked storage containers stacked three high in rows that ran the length of the room. The fight had ended and time was running thin. 

She pulled a computer spike from the headband supporting her lekku and wedged it into the door panel of locker 92E. The lights cycled from red to green, and then to blue, and the door panel sprung open. Xaria’s red skinned hands slipped into the locker, feeling their way through what lay inside: a towel, a small bottle of oil, and then, wrapped in a leather jacket, a long and thin cylindrical object with coarse edges that matched no pattern which she could recognize. 

There weren’t any data cards, identification badges, credits, nor anything else that she’d been hoping for which could provide information on who the man really was; but that object...

She pulled out the jacket and unfolded it, keen on inspecting the object bundled within; it was a blade hilt, but not just any blade. Xaria straightened up as she recognized it. Her eyes went wide. She turned the lightsaber over in her hand, gaze locked onto its distinct features with both surprise and a twinge of fear. She’d never seen one in person, but she’d heard the stories and seen images, both of the people - and their blades.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s a crime to steal,” a low, baritone voice said in what Xaria at first thought might have been the growl of a beast.

Xaria startled and spun around with the hilt and jacket still in hand. A twinge of discomfort lanced through her lekku as the nerves there pulsed - a response to the lightning flash of fear that had struck. Her gaze darted towards the doorway where she found a figure standing in the shadows. Short, spiked horns encircled the bare chested man’s head. 

A zabrak. 

He was coated with blood and sporting brand new scrapes and bruises.

 _The ring fighter_. The one she’d been here to survey.

“You.. _You’re_ a Jedi?” 

The man emerged from the shadows and took long, slow strides that closed the distance to the woman standing at his locker. 

“Note quite, no,” he answered. 

At long last Xaria was able to get a clear view of him as he stepped into the dim light which bathed the center of the room in an almost clinical white glow. Arden’s chest and throat and face were speckled with still wet, reddish purple blood, much of which had been smeared by the drying towel he’d no doubt been handed just after the fight. His chest and abdomen were rising and falling with each breath he heaved in and then released; the bout had clearly pushed the man to his limits - but here he was.

They were within arm’s reach of each other now, and with that proximity came the brawler’s scent, a potent mix of the smells of the fighting ring and sweat drenched musk. She could practically count the droplets on his body.

Arden reached past her, pulled the towel from the locker, and dried the broad expanse of his upper chest and shoulders, saving his face for last. Xaria watched in silence, words catching in her throat as she observed the attentiveness with which the zabrak worked around the horns atop his head. Somehow the smeared blood still seemed to cling to his damp skin even after a thorough pass with the cloth; the blended colors only highlighted the texture and muscular curvature of his form, including the mountainous landscape of his abdomen and chest. 

The zabrak turned his head to meet her gaze and then reached out to take the jacket she’d been holding. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and tugged it straight so that the fleece lined collar stood tall and guarded either side of his neck. Xaria swallowed down the fear and desperately unintended attraction that had struck her.

She met his starlight white and blue eyes and then wrapped her hands tightly around the saber hilt. 

“If you’re not a Jedi, then why do you have a laser sword?”

Arden’s lips curled upwards, exposing the sharp whites of his teeth as he grinned. Despite what she could only presume was a life of hard fighting that had sculpted his body, his teeth hadn’t yet been cracked or shattered, and two slightly pronounced canines offered an almost sinister twist to his mien.

“Maybe I killed a Jedi and took it from them.”

“No one can kill a Jedi,” Xaria breathed out quietly, even if in that moment he certainly seemed terrifying enough to achieve such a feat. 

The laugh which slipped from Arden’s mouth caught her off guard.

“You don’t know your history very well,” Arden sneered. He shut the locker door, turned his body to face her, and then began to advance. Xaria inched backwards with every step forward he took. “What are you doing rummaging around in my locker, hmm?”

“Isn’t that obvious? You can handle yourself well enough in a fight; that’s worth a closer look,” she answered, pulling herself back from the surprise of her discovery. “You’ve had a half dozen bouts on the circuit, and someone has taken an interest in your abilities.”

If he _was_ a Jedi, guile and confidence would be the only thing to match him. He’d just beaten the devaronian; he’d proven himself a formidable opponent and she couldn’t allow herself to stay on the back foot even a moment longer. 

“But,” Xaria added, planting her feet and pushing a hand against his chest to stop his advance; she could feel the pounding of his twin hearts and it sent a shiver through her spine. “ _My_ employer is cautious with who they hire; they value strength, but they’d never pull in a Jedi. You’re certainly... _nice_ for a closer look, but you’re not what they’re seeking after all.”

Arden paused for a beat when her hand connected with his bare chest; he leaned forwards to put pressure and weight on the arm holding him from advancing, testing her resolve.

“ _Still_ not a Jedi,” he mused. “And who says I was looking for work in the first place?” 

“There’s only one type of person who comes to Kazo’s ring, or any of the others... but no one would hire a Jedi, not here, not for what people do in these parts,” Xaria answered. Her fingers curled inwards as she became aware of the damp, coarse skin of his chest beneath her palm; the sensation had evoked a strange feeling, an odd sense of comfort that couldn’t have been natural. 

Mind tricks; he had to be using his mystical powers. And they were working. She’d been in his presence no more than mere moments and already she could feel her own heart pounding, whether it was from fear, or something deeper. 

“Did you actually watch the fight,” he croaked, jolting her attention away from the sensation. “When was the last time you saw a Jedi kill someone in a fighting pit?” 

Xaria’s eyes widened and she met his gaze. “Brextar is dead?”

Arden advanced as he caught her off guard, once again inching the red skinned twi’lek backwards, this time until she was pressed up against the wall. The front of his jacket was still wide open, and as he closed the distance between them the soft fleece lining of the inside grazed her bare midriff, casting another shiver through her frame.

“If I _was_ a Jedi, do you honestly believe I’d be in _this_ neighborhood... or here, alone, with someone like you? Don’t Jedi have a reputation to uphold?” 

He _had_ killed the devaronian. 

He, a muscular but still much smaller man, had killed the giant devaronian who’d lost only two fights in his whole career, and only then to a wookiee and a gamorrean. Xaria kept the saber hilt gripped tightly in the free hand at her side.

“Jedi are still trouble,” she answered softly, struggling to overcome her shaky nerves. “Never heard anything about them being reputable, just powerful. And manipulative. ”

“At least we can agree on that.” Arden lifted a hand, grasped at the wrist of her hand which held the saber, raised it above her head, and then pressed it firmly against the wall. “Who is this employer of yours that has taken an interest in me,” he demanded in a low, but not quite threatening tone. 

Xaria took in a shaky breath. “Like I said, no one here would be interested in Jedi trouble. You haven’t convinced me of anything except that you can kill, and lie.” She offered a small push to his chest with the hand she’d planted earlier, but the zabrak didn’t budge. “You and your... mysticism and manipulation.”

She felt Arden’s thumb trailing along the wrist that he’d grasped, and then onto her fingers. He guided one of her digits to the switch embedded in the hilt and pressed down; the saber ignited, bathing them both in an unsettling yellow glow that once again snatched away the air in her lungs. The two could barely have gotten any closer to one another, and Xaria could almost taste the salty sweat which covered his tattoo laden, hazel colored skin. The same captivating sensation from before took hold once again, and Xaria swallowed down a sharp breath. Her gaze flitted between his eyes and his lips, the latter of the two which still had the faint smear of blood upon it.

“Believe me or don’t, but you’re still in complete control,” Arden said as he leaned in another inch, his lips now brushing across her own. “And for what it’s worth, I can be the right sort of trouble, depending on what your employer is asking for. But I don’t work for just anyone, and there are enough people hiring right now. So tell me...” He raised his free hand and wrapped it gently around the top of her throat, his thumb running slow strokes back and forth along the edge of her jawline; he could feel her pulse hastening beneath his grip. “Who is this employer you’re investigating me for?”

“Ask all you want,” Xaria whispered back, “I still don’t have any reason to trust you, or tell you anything more.”

Arden still hadn’t pulled back, his lips continuing to ghost across her own; she could feel every twitch and curl of them as he spoke. “You know that trust means nothing here on Nar Shadaa. Fighting rings are for picking up cheap muscle, not someone like me; your boss can’t possibly be so important if they’re shopping _here_. So you can tell me who it is that’s looking into me and we can strike a deal, or I can go find my work someplace else.”

He turned his head ever so subtly from side to side, dragging his lower lip across her partially opened mouth - it was clear that she was torn, grappling with the decision. Arden’s eyes closed for the briefest of moments as he breathed in and committed the twi’lek’s scent to memory; then he set his gaze upon her once again. The look in her eyes was one he’d seen before: fear. Fear born not of intimidation and concern for harm, but for the sake of indecision. It was true that he hadn’t needed the Force to push her off balance; brute force intimidation was something he knew ever better than mysticism.

He tightened the grip at her throat, not enough to restrict the flow of air, but certainly enough to heighten her awareness, and the weight of the power he was trying to display. Her breath hitched once more and the fingers she’d curled against his chest unfurled - spreading wide and indulging in the coarseness of his damp skin.

“Gardula,” Xaria breathed out, her gaze remaining locked onto his own. “My employer is Gardula Shindu.” 

Arden’s head tipped up and down in acknowledgement, the motion continuing to brush his lips against her own.

“And what does this Gardula want with me? What sort of work are they offering?”

“My employer wants the same thing anyone here does; loyalty, and service. What you end up doing... that’s between you two.”

Arden angled her hand, tilting the blade down so that she’d feel the heat of the saber. The warm glow darkened the far side of their faces. Xaria’s eyes darted sidelong towards the blade, concern registering, but not overtaking her barely holding confidence and resolve; not once though did the hand she was grasping the blade with loosen.

Xaria’s chin tilted up towards him, a subconscious pull drawing her to follow through on what he’d not fully given in to. Jedi or not, she couldn’t deny the attraction. But he didn’t meet her for this; she leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth, but only a low, soft rumble came back. And then he spoke, the hand at her throat holding her there against his lips.

“I thought you said no one was interested in Jedi trouble.”

Her eyes opened and drifted up to meet his gaze. “It’s a good thing you’re not a Jedi.”

*

A multi-car tram barreled by, shaking the floor and walls and windows of the thousands of barely habitable apartments inside the building. The flashing lights of the tram and the endless stream of speeders and freighters flying across the skyline was a permanent backdrop for Arden’s unit, a neon vibrance that never dimmed or dulled. It wasn’t because of that constant ambience that Arden hadn’t slept, though. His eyes had remained wide open and his focus was set on the ceiling - tracking the evolving shapes of light that passed through the blinds covered windows. He’d been listening, waiting. 

The quiet breathing from beside him had settled into a lazy, contented rhythm which assured Arden that Xaria had fallen asleep; it hadn’t taken long, but Arden had waited to be sure. 

He turned his head to regard her presence; the twi’lek had thrown an arm across the broad expanse of his bare chest and wrapped one leg around his own beneath the sheets. Her head was buried into the crook of his neck, and with each subtle shift and adjustment he could feel the frame of her body, and all the nooks and curves that defined it. Her hold on him had relaxed over the past hour, and with that came the stilling of her teasing caresses and soft whispers which had occupied the hours since they’d run themselves ragged. He’d not expected that bit from her. An affectionate touch, especially in a place like Nar Shaddaa, had come as a surprise - but not one he was displeased with. It had been a long while since he’d known compassion alongside lust. 

He twisted slightly and gently handled her body so that he could slip out from beneath. She stirred at the touch and Arden’s eyes closed with mild annoyance.

He reached down as he stood and took hold of the back of her neck. He drew upon the Force and cast upon her a reinforcement of that sense of peace and calm he had stirred her from. Then he waited beside the bed to be sure she’d fallen back into sleep before moving away. As quietly as he could, Arden slipped into his pants and then tugged on his jacket once more; both had been hastily discarded when they’d arrived at the apartment, but he didn’t mind the stink of his sweat on both. He wouldn’t be wearing them for long.

The apartment was over a thousand floors up and situated right next to one of the city’s main transit lines; between the high wind, the rowdy neighbors, and the constant rustling zoom of speeders and freighters and trams nearby, there was little chance she’d hear him in particular. Arden slinked his way across the apartment, stepping over clothing and trash, scattered equipment, and even spare droid parts; none of it had begged any questions from the twi’lek when she’d entered, and the mess certainly didn’t bother him since he was the one who lived in it. 

Arden swiped a comlink from the table on his way to the far side of the unit, palmed the keypanel beside the door, and stepped out into the midnight air. Only a few of the neighboring tenants were standing on the walkways lining the inner courtyard, the hollow space which spanned the whole height of the building. None of them paid him any mind, and he ignored their presence in return. 

Nar Shaddaa was a city unlike any other. With scum and villainy abound, it was easy to get lost in the crowds, and especially easy for someone like Arden. The Force itself thrummed on this moon in a way that few other worlds could match; there was a vibrance, an aggressive liveliness that refused to quiet, and it had been euphoric to Arden from the very first moment he set foot here. All of the galaxy’s sins and vices swirled about each other like a poorly mixed tonic, and the reprieve from overzealous piousness had been a solace and comfort, as it also proved to be an opportunity for purpose.

Arden raised the comlink and spoke into it as soon as the latest tram had passed by.

“K8-Z, update the log; I’m in. Start digging up all the information you can find on Gardula Shindu, and gather any records on file about something called the Tazar Collective. Send it to my data-pad under the supplies and inventory tab.”

A beat, and then the recycled garble of droid speak came back across the device.

“Good. Track my location once I leave, and execute the public intercept how we planned. Vale out.” Arden switched off the comlink and slipped it back onto the belt clip. 

Shouts came from two levels below and across the way, drawing Arden’s attention; an ithorian was cowering in a corner and, to no surprise, two rodians were prodding him with a shock stick. Arden leaned forward against the railing and launched a glob of spit down into the courtyard.

Another night in Nar Shaddaa.

He turned and keyed the door to reenter his apartment, leaving behind the shouts and warbling cries from below.

The apartment he’d been renting wasn’t anything worth bragging about. It was a simple two room, open layout with a kitchenette to the right of the door and a living space on the left; the wash room was wedged in between the two, directly opposite the entryway. Arden deliberated on fixing himself at least a small portion of food, but rustling from the bed shook the idea from his mind; his aching stomach had waited this long - a few hours more wasn’t the worst thing.

Arden turned and tilted his head to the side; a curious, lopsided grin stretched its way across his mouth. His gaze fell upon the twi’lek who had rolled over to face him. She’d stirred from sleep. His bed was pushed up against the window along the back wall, and light from passing speeders cast a rolling display of multi-colored shapes across Xaria’s body, illuminating the bare crimson sheen of her skin.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be bothering your neighbors,” she asked.

“It’s almost morning already; they’ll get over it.” Arden made his way across the room towards her, once again stepping over the piles of scrap and discarded belongings as he moved. “Did I wake you?”

“The lack of body heat was noticeable,” the twi’lek answered with a sleepy voice. 

Arden scoffed. “We don’t run _that_ warm. When are we going to meet with your employer?” He stood at the side of the mattress and looked down upon the expanse of her body; the single sheet covering his bed lay across the lower half of her body, and a single arm lay across her breasts, masking them from his sight.

His gandering hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the twi’lek’s features twisted into a wide, teasing grin. She inched the sheets lower to expose her leg all the way up to her inner thigh, but stopped short of fully revealing herself. 

“Why so eager to get in trouble? You’ve got at least a few more hours of vetting to go through here before my employer gets her turn with you.”

Arden reached out a hand, rolling the woman onto her back with a subtle push through the Force; the bedsheet slid down to the foot of the mattress as if by magic, and a small groan of annoyance rolled off the twi’lek’s tongue. 

“What happened to the ‘not-a-Jedi’ thing,” she mused. This wasn’t the first trick he’d pulled since they’d entered the apartment. Arden shrugged off his jacket and crawled onto the bed, prowling over her body until they were eye to eye. Xaria spent the fleeting moment surveying the white tattoos emblazoned on his skin; they ran from his feet all the way up, across his thighs and abdomen, his chest, and then to the top of his head - a jagged path of simple lines that bore significance which she couldn’t even begin to glean. She lamented that the zabrak’s pants covered half of the glorious, pulse accelerating sight.

“Still not a Jedi,” he cooed, slowly lowering himself to bury his lips into the crook of her neck. Xaria tilted her head to the side, content to welcome the warmth of his breath and the sharp sting of his teeth as he nipped at the bare flesh of her neck. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have my ways, though.” 

Xaria reached out with a hand and ran her fingers up the back of his neck, carefully dancing around the spiked horns atop his head. 

“Just don’t make a show of it outside; there’s not many who will care about the distinction,” she breathed softly, wincing as his teeth found purchase once more. Arden hunched forwards as he began to work his way down her body, lips and teeth teasing and kissing at her flesh, followed by his tongue which soothed at the agitated skin. “And don’t think this gets you special treatment,” Xaria added. “I’m vetting you, but that doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed anything. This is... trouble, not business.” 

Arden slowed his descent, both hands rising to grasp at her breasts, massaging both with a firm grip. He pinched and twisted her nipples before lavishing them with his tongue’s attention. The twi’lek’s back arched and one of Arden’s arms slipped beneath her, securing itself as a firm brace as he once again began to descend. He continued to arch his back, hunching forward as his lips kissed at the muscles and nerves in her abdomen, the coarseness of his skin prompting a shiver and squirm from the woman. 

“How can you use those powers if you aren’t one of them?” Her eyes were closed and her head had tipped back; Arden cast a glance up the length of her body, appreciating the gentle curves that rose and fell with each sharp breath she took. He dragged his lips down the last stretch of her abdomen and pressed a firm kiss just below her waistline.

“The less you ask, the better things will be; enjoy the mystery,” he growled out before dipping his chin and kissing his way down another inch. His lips were soft, but not moist, and yet still they were warm to the touch; he pressed a deep, attentive kiss and then took in a deep breath through his nose - savoring the woman’s scent. The rough texture of the skin on his cheeks felt like the scruff of a beard against her thighs, and it drew out a near ghastly exhale from the twi’lek.

“Whatever you say, brawler,” she whispered. 

Arden used his free hand and arm to police her leg, hefting it over his shoulder to better spread thighs as he buried his head and set himself to task. His reply came in between teasing kisses that merely previewed his intent.

“You already know my name. Get used to saying it.”

*

Arden tugged at Xaria’s ankle, enough of a presence to wake her but not outright pull her from the bed; he was already slipping into his own pants by the time she cracked open her eyes and cast a withering glare his way. 

“I think it’s time to get up; we’ve got business to get to.” 

Xaria rolled over and buried her head beneath one of the barely stuffed pillows. “It’s only morning, Arden; Gardula won’t even take a meeting until la-”

“It’s past midday, and if we stay here any longer my _stomach_ is going to eat you up next. Get dressed; we’ll eat on the way there.” 

Arden threw the twi’lek’s discarded leggings on top of her and then lifted up an arm as he turned away. He took a subtle whiff of himself to be sure he wasn’t so offensive as to warrant a shower before departing; it was passable, but tonight would demand that he bathe for sure. He vanished into the washroom and Xaria slowly pushed herself up from the bed. 

A low groan escaped her. Her arms and thighs were sore, her head was throbbing from the bottle of Tarisian Ale they’d greedily emptied, and most of all she could still feel the scratch marks along her back and shoulders; white and red lines were raised up from her flesh in staunch opposition to the hours of rough treatment. Flickering memories of the long night, and the very early morning that followed, flashed through her mind as she took into account her belongings which had been scattered across the apartment in their frenzy to undress.

The unit was just as filthy as she’d taken note of the night before. There had been a hope that the ale was exaggerating its filthy state - but painfully sober awareness proved that wasn’t the case at all. The door to the washroom was still open and she could hear a steady stream hitting what water sat in the refresher as the zabrak relieved himself. She eyed the open doorway, debating the merits of following him in for the sole purpose of drawing out the rarely found physical connection that they’d shared, but there was something undeniably business oriented in the man now. She doubted there’d be any convincing him to linger in the apartment another few hours.

Arden emerged a moment later, snatched up a belt that had been hung over a chair back, clasped it into place, and then fastened the blaster holster onto his outer thigh; he watched her from the corner of his eye the whole while, catching onto her sluggish movements.

“Too much ale?”

“Just enough to hurt,” she grumbled, stretching up both arms to slip on the grey, cropped shirt she’d arrived with. “You seem like you’re in a rush.”

Arden slipped on a shirt and then eased himself into the fleece lined bomber jacket and gave it a tug to pop out the bunches in either sleeve. “This place ain’t much, but it costs me. That, and repairs, food, other expenses... it builds up and I put in my work to earn my keep things steady.” 

He snaked both hands along the top of his scalp, running front to back as he watched her slip into the pair of shin high boots that he could tell, even from a distance, were combat grade. They were fitted with bladed tips just under the toes and heels. She checked every box off on the ‘dangerous scoundrel’ list, and a moment of reflection told Arden that it may very well have been that attribute in particular which had drawn him so eagerly towards her; a sense of danger. He hadn’t needed to bring her home, to pursue such a path to seducing her; he could have secured a meeting without any strings attached, and yet still - there had been something about her that compelled what she had called a “closer look”.

“If this...Gardula you’re set up with is offering work,” he continued, “I’ll hear out the offer; but they’re not the only one who has jobs out on offer. The night company I’ll take any time, but idle hours between jobs isn’t something I can afford.”

“You act like you don’t know who Gardula is,” Xaria probed as she sat down on the edge of the bed and buckled the laces. Arden slipped into his own boots and kept his gaze set out the window while he answered her; there was something oddly calming about the constant stream of speeders and ships bustling past.

“Nar Shaddaa has something like ninety billion people living on it, and there are more than two hundred thousand major syndicates and cartels.” Arden’s gaze turned over towards her once more. “And yet... somehow I get the feeling this Gardula will still be pissed that I don’t know their name.”

“You should absolutely be careful about that, definitely; you may end up on the wrong side of someone’s blaster just for insulting her,” Xaria teased. “Worst case to get shot before any work arrangements can be made in the first place.”

Arden scoffed. “At least it’d be over quickly.” He shuffled into the kitchenette, filled a small canteen with water, and then clipped it onto his belt along with a few other gadgets that he swiped from the table on his way back into the bedroom. Among them, Xaria noticed, was his lightsaber.

“You’re bringing that with you?”

Arden slotted the weapon onto the magnetic clip positioned in the center of the belt behind his back; it fit snug, horizontally positioned, and even matched the half dozen other oddly shaped gadgets, tools, and weapons that he had equipped. His jacket fell down to his ass and adequately covered the weapon from sight. His expression didn’t shift as he met her stare.

“Of course you are,” she commented. “Because that’s a wise thing to do.”

“Look, if you were convinced that I’m entirely more trouble than you thought, you’d not have stayed, nor agreed to bring me to your employer.” He placed both hands on his hips and waited for her to finish gathering up her own personal belongings. “Regardless of what you’re saying, you have enough of an understanding of me to know I can get through without issue. I’ve made it this far without being shot in the back. Most people don’t know what to look for, or what to ask, and I’ve never given anyone any reason to think something of it, or me. The only way it becomes an issue is if you make it one.”

“Obscurity,” Xaria replied. “That’s your play? Why is a Jedi even meddling in underworld affairs in the first place?”

“ _Still_ not a Jedi,” Arden repeated. “I live my life my own way, and I sure as hell don’t answer to any council or master.” 

Xaria remained seated on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on her knees as she stared up at him. “There’s a long story in there.”

Arden rolled his eyes, turned, and took a step back to rest against the wall, allowing space for her to walk towards the door to which he gestured. “Let’s go, _long story_. I’ll enjoy watching you explain to this Gardula what you spent the night doing if you want to trade tit for tat.”

“Word of advice,” Xaria said as she stood and came to stand before him. “Don’t give Gardula, or anyone here, the faintest hint of _anything_ . I get wanting to do your own thing --that’s most of us here, but these aren’t the syndicates you want to jump around in like they’re puddles. These are lakes... oceans in some cases, and you’ll drown before you even know what’s happening.” She reached out and wrapped an arm around his back beneath the jacket, her fingers tracing circles into his muscle and flesh she could feel through the shirt. “And for what it’s worth, this is me living _my_ own life; last night was because I wanted to, not because of business.” 

Arden met her gaze, seemed to consider her words, and then reached up to grab her arm with one hand and take hold of cheek and jaw with the other. He tilted her head back and leaned in to press a long, rough kiss to her lips; the tension present in her body melted away, but before she could fall deeper into him, Arden broke from the kiss. He kept a firm gaze upon her, and then jerked his chin to the side, gesturing for her to head on towards the door. “You can live your own life any night, but right now we have business to handle.”

Sunlight didn’t greet them outside as they stepped onto the walkway, not like it would on other worlds; sunlight never touched the surface of Nar Shaddaa. The moon was tidally locked to Nal Hutta, which dominated the sky above, and thus half of the surface spanning city was bathed in perpetual night; the only natural illumination came from the faint glow mirrored off the planet, light which was smothered and filtered through smog from the industrial sectors.

Idle chatter fluttered between the two as they wandered through the building’s winding corridors and walkways, but the affectionate touches had ceased entirely; it felt strange given how consistent it had been just moments before. They rode the turbo-lift down to the middle city heights, and then stepped out onto the crowded, platformed streets which weaved in between the skyscrapers. Each step they took led them deeper into the heart of the Corellian Sector of Nar Shaddaa, and closer to their destination.

Street vendors were well into their daily routines, watchmen were patrolling their gang’s territories, and every now and then a security officer was spotted deliberately ignoring a crime in progress; it was just another ordinary day. The surface of Nar Shaddaa was smothered by a never ending city which was broken into thousands of massive districts, each which had, at one point, been a small city of their own. What made this place unique from ecumnopoli like Coruscant was just how many different cultures had nested themselves deep into the city; whole districts had transitioned into microcosmic reflections of the galaxy at large, with racial and social boundaries charting a head-spinning map of complex relations that were difficult for even the most knowledgeable scholars to understand. The only ones who had a true grip on the cultural and political climate of Nar Shaddaa were the low lives who helped shape it; the gang lords and syndicate lackeys.

Arden’s expression hardened to a cold look of indifference as he watched a few more shakedowns playing out, with no hope for intervention from good samaritans anywhere; here on Nar Shaddaa, the downtrodden were on their own. 

“I’ve seen more fighting and crime in this district alone in recent weeks than anywhere else, and it’s been a few years now that I’ve been traveling,” Arden observed, careful to keep his tone level and dispassionate.

Xaria nodded, her own gaze drifting towards the dead ends and alleys where many of the indigent beggars shuffled or staggered to after pocketing a handful of credits from passersby on the street.

“The syndicates are all digging their fingers into the districts here on Nar Shaddaa; that’s nothing new, though. But... with the fall of the Empire, the government officials keeping things in order were driven out, and the New Republic’s administrative personnel haven’t been keen on sticking to the status quo. The minute they tried to bring about change the syndicates pushed back.” 

Arden adjusted the collar of his jacket as he followed along and listened, his gaze sweeping across the crowds ahead of them. “Sounds like that has created a power struggle unlike the usual push and pull. Has the New Republic continued to clamp down, or did they-”

“Give up? Closer to that than anything; half the officials started taking bribes and found themselves too deep to back out quickly. The rest have kept clean and kept their distance, choosing to not get involved at all. The New Republic approached Gardula a while back but the terms weren’t exactly favorable.”

Arden’s brow lofted. “What did they offer her?”

“Exemption from prosecution in exchange for information.”

“How is that a bad thing? It cleans out rival syndicates and gangs.”

Xaria glanced over at Arden, eyes catching on the way the zabrak’s tight fit shirt clung to the skin and muscle each time his open jacket shifted while he walked. “For starters?” Her focus drifted up to meet his gaze. “If the New Republic pushes out one syndicate, they’re not going to let it be taken over by another. Their forces have been trying to occupy districts in coordination with local officials; they want to revolutionize the city. New initiatives for public safety, employment protections, policing efforts.”

“And we don’t like those,” Arden recited with a playful tone. 

“Those initiatives never work; they just spike the tax rates and people continue suffering like they always have. New rulers, same old shit. Nar Shaddaa isn’t some inner or mid-rim world where there’s been a central government keeping things together all along; this has _always_ been a city for the cartels and syndicates, and there’s no changing that,” Xaria replied with a somber tone. “The syndicates make life rough, but it’s better than it could be. At least Gardula and the other leaders look after the people under their control.”

He didn’t argue the point.

“Where is your employer based, anyways,” Arden asked once they passed by their fifth mugging since having left the apartment complex. “Not that I’m an expert, but I think I’d have heard if she was operating anywhere close by.”

“Think of it more in terms of Gardula knowing how to operate efficiently and quietly, and less like you just haven’t been paying close enough attention.” Xaria gestured around at the vast maze of poorly kept buildings, vendors, and streets which were jam packed with crowds. “Gardula has been here the whole time; decades, now. While her stronghold is here in this district, she operates exclusively beyond the borders.”

Arden nodded slowly as they weaved through the crowds. “Clever, but not without its risks, I’d imagine. It would keep her hands clean and give her some distance, but setting up in a rival district? Especially with tensions being what they are... don’t rival syndicates and gangs here threaten her security?”

Xaria shook her head. 

“Not that I’ve ever seen. Gardula pays for peace of mind, and just about everyone knows that if anything _were_ to happen to her, all out war between the districts would make them regret such an attack. They’re all staking new territory, but they know small moves are best, and nothing direct.”

“Nothing tanks profits like a war. What is Gardula’s main line of work? Smuggling? Arms trafficking? Narcotics?” Arden turned his body this way and that as he followed beside her, squeezing through the crowds which seemed to be growing in size; the deeper into the district they went, the more people there were. 

“It’s a diverse slate; she’ll put you where you fit best-”

“ _If_ I take the job,” Arden corrected.

“There’s no point even taking the meeting if you don’t plan to follow through, Arden; this isn’t some Czerka Corp. job doing arms sales for suits. Whatever else you may be, not-Jedi, don’t be a fool going into this,” Xaria chided, a narrowed gaze turning up towards him. “Would be a shame to see them break that pretty face of yours.” 

Xaria walked straight into a droid as she kept her gaze on the zabrak; she stumbled back and reached for the blaster at her hip, but Arden was quick to reach out with his arm and block both her path, and shot. The roadblock, a grey and white plated KX series security droid, had been standing directly in their way, but its gaze was fixed squarely on Arden and him alone.

“Collision detected.” A beat. “Arden Vale, your response to the previously issued offer is past its due date,” the droid recited. 

“I’m still considering my options,” Arden answered coolly, taking a half step forward and to the side to plant himself firmly between the droid and any potential retaliation from Xaria. “You can tell your employer that they’ll have my answer by night’s end. No hard feelings over the delay, I hope.”

The security droid hunched forward to close the distance, leaning in to inspect Arden with its slowly rotating sight lenses. Xaria sized-up the droid and took special note of the insignia obscured and half buried beneath the armored chest plate; her gaze tightened instinctively.

“I find this response to be suitable,” the droid replied. “Your decision will be expected. Failure to deliver a reply by the stated time will result in termination... of communication.”

Arden spread a toothy grin. “I read you, loud and clear.”

The droid remained hunched for a longer moment, either for intimidation purposes or further scrutiny of its query, but it finally straightened up and stomped forward, brushing past the two in the process. Xaria stepped up to Arden’s side and grabbed at his arm to spin him around.

“The _Pyke Syndicate_ , really?” 

Arden shrugged off the grip and met her gaze directly. “Like I said, your employer isn’t the only one offering work.”

“City services are hiring trash loaders too, and yet I don’t see you wearing orange and rolling around in filth.” She stepped closer and tugged at his jacket, dragging him in an inch; her voice lowered. “But really? Of all the opportunities... the _Pyke_ Syndicate? Were you just looking for an excuse to start huffing spice?”

Arden rolled his eyes. “No spice. But everyone is undermanned these days; the Pykes are hiring enforcers and trackers, among other positions.”

Xaria watched him carefully, surveying his reaction as he turned away; it wasn’t that she was seeing him in a new light, she was simply reconsidering all she _thought_ she knew about him. 

“Not a Jedi,” she muttered quietly, understanding now that he _had_ been genuine in that admission. Best of all, that was exactly the truth he wanted her to believe. “So you _are_ legit. Does that mean the Jedi are hunting you?”

Arden shot a look back towards her. “Like I said before... the less you ask, the better things will be.”

“That was when we were in bed. _This_ is business now; answer the question.” 

Arden straightened his back so that he was standing at his full height; a heavy gaze fell upon her. 

“Answer me, Arden; or you don’t go a step further.”

“No,” he answered shortly. The abruptness of the answer made her flinch and draw back, her brows knitting together. 

“No, I’m not a Jedi. No, they’re not hunting me. And yes, what I said was true: I walk my own path. Whether that makes me _legitimate_ in your eyes or not, I don’t much care.” He closed the distance between them. “If your concerns aren’t settled by now, then this offer isn’t going to play out well, and your employer is better off searching for someone else.”

Xaria shook her head, the lekku hanging freely along her back swaying slightly with the motion.

“She wanted you; she asked _for you_.”

“Then stop acting surprised and take me to her already so we can do our business,” he replied in a low tone, one hand rising to pinch at her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Or... we can go our separate ways.” 

Xaria drew in a breath, her gaze following the jagged, white colored facial tattoos all the way down to his lips. Both were curving slightly, once again offering the briefest glimpse of his teeth and the pointed canines hidden within his mouth. They _were_ working; they _were_ meant to be on their way; they _were_ supposed to be professional at the moment. And yet...

She shoved down the urge to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth. “No surprise here,” she said at last. “No more interruptions though; you’re on Gardula’s time, now.”

Xaria reached up, took hold of Arden’s wrist, and pulled it away before starting down the street once more.

Gardula’s warehouse was further down the street and the sooner they arrived and finished their business, the sooner Xaria could process whatever feelings the not-Jedi’s influence had infected her with.

  
  
  



	2. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xaria takes Arden to meet with her employer to strike a deal, one which plunges him into the depths of Nar Shaddaa's undercity.

####  **[Chapter II: The Deal]**

######  _Nar Shaddaa_

Xaria turned down an alley and Arden followed wordlessly, gaze sweeping back and forth along the boundaries of the narrow passage. The entry level of the building to their right was nondescript and coated with graffiti that matched every other run down storefront and apartment complex in the near area; it could easily have been a warehouse, a factory, a small craft hanger, or a scrap recycling plant. Regardless of its function, not a single soul would care what lay inside. 

Above the ground floor, the towering skyscraper offered the promise of thousands of low quality apartments and cramped office spaces that were bound to be piled on top of each other, leaving little room for anything but a meager and shallow existence. Xaria had led them into the Warrens, one of the most troubled parts of the Corellian Sector on Nar Shaddaa.

Everything they’d seen on their way here fit the bill of a city whose people were never more than a step away from selling their lives just to survive another day.

Scrap and detritus were heaped into piles within the alleys. Street vendor stalls had been wrecked and the wreckage left to rot where it sat. Beggars and squatters roamed like stray gathka prowlers, scavenging for food and resources like they weren’t living in the heart of a metropolis that was thrumming with opportunity. In case places, bodies could be found, and whether they were living, deceased, or somewhere in between, no one cared enough to check.

These were dismal sights, ones that would have cast Arden into a deep depression had he not already been living amongst those in squalor for some time now.

Xaria led Arden away from the sights on the main street and halted before the building’s sidedoor, planting herself directly in front of the shistavanen who guarded the entrance. The wolf-man, his back bent into a slight hunch, snarled as Xaria stared him down. 

“She’s expecting me,” the twi’lek stated bluntly.

“Where’re my credits, little rat? You still owe me,” the shistavanen snarled back through gritted teeth. “Maybe Gardula doesn’t want trash who doesn't pay up being let in.”

Arden could sense a tinge of anger spark within the twi’lek, but he didn’t intervene. To be this close was a feat in and of itself, and the last thing he could afford was to rock the boat. He rested both hands on his hips, bent his knee slightly to dig the tip of his boot into the ground, and turned his gaze elsewhere - focusing on the other features of the neighborhood that were visible from within the alley.

“Out of the way, Thafer,” Xaria snapped, delivering a harsh shove to the wolf-man’s chest. “And if you want _my_ money, maybe next time you won’t cheat.” She brushed past him and slapped her hand against the door panel.

Thafer, the wolf-man, only snickered as he stepped off to the side; finally he turned his focus towards Arden. “Who’s the kung?” 

Xaria glanced back to follow the sentry’s line of sight, and then turned to enter through the doorway, not spending more than a half second sizing up Arden. “He’s dinner; what do you think? Stop dicking around and do your job, Thafer.” She waved Arden in and the two vanished from sight as the door slid shut behind them.

The corridor directly beyond was poorly illuminated, and darkness swallowed them both as they entered. Light fixtures were recessed into the base of the walls on either side, but half were flickering or just dim, and the remaining lights were completely out. Xaria led the way to the end of the corridor where a turbo lift sat waiting, open.

Arden centered his mind as they approached, sensing what appeared to him as a ripple in the Force; what he would face next he couldn’t foresee, but he _could_ sense that it was an encounter of import. It was an encounter which would impact more lives than just his own, and he was going in blind.

“Anything I need to know before this meeting,” he asked, closing the distance as Xaria led them into the lift. Once inside, she turned to face him and blindly reached out to palm the key panel; the doors slid shut. 

“For starters? Your charm... don’t bother with it,” she answered pointedly. “It won’t win you any favor with Gardula. And, farrik’s sake, don’t mention the Pykes; you understand me?”

Arden raised his hands and showed both palms out towards her in mock surrender. “Okay, okay; no Pyke Syndicate.”

She reached out towards him and snatched the collar of his jacket, not dragging him closer, but instead simply drawing his attention so that she could be sure he was listening. 

“And no looking at me.”

“Entirely avoiding you would be suspicious,” Arden teased, unable to keep back a mirthful grin.

“You know what I mean. This is business, and I don’t need complications here.”

Arden reached up to grasp at her wrist and gently pull it back to her side. “Business focused, that’s where I’m at,” he assured her, though the tone he used only sparked irritation that spilled across her face.

“I’m serious.”

The lift doors parted after a brief moment to reveal an entirely different space. “I’m serious too,” Arden replied before stepping out; it only took a second before Xaria overtook him and led the way.

There wasn’t any dark corridor this time, but instead an expansive, single level storage facility that stretched far beyond Arden’s line of sight. Row after row of shelves could be seen, and scattered throughout were large piles and stacks of cargo still being processed, much of it already packed onto repulsorlift dollies. Workers dragged stacks of cargo this way and that, parking some for long term storage, and dragging the rest towards the southern side of the building. A gentle current of air was flowing in from that direction, leading to the presumption that a landing pad or hanger was present.

Arden took note of the layout.

“Trafficking operations?”

“Mostly processing and redirection,” Xaria answered with as little enthusiasm as possible; for a moment Arden almost genuinely believed she wasn’t still caught up in just how impressive a set up of this nature was while remaining hidden. “The trade lane tariffs are absurd, even for basic fair market goods, especially for this sector of the galaxy. Most suppliers prefer the risk of black market transport because we can at least get it to the destination without them having to pay the tax per item.”

“So Gardula’s Tazar Collective charges a base rate for the transport service, and the clients get to skip the individual cargo taxes?”

Xaria nodded, and then raised a hand to massage one of the lekku hanging behind her shoulder. 

“It saves _them_ credits and we make a fortune off of the base fees. _And_ , if we’re boarded or searched, all anyone would ever find is just the basic market goods. They slap a tax or fee on the ship and then move on with their day; no reason to suspect anything more sinister than just someone avoiding taxes on a shipment.” She pulled forward the long, slender tendril she’d been massaging and let it fall past her chest.

“And Gardula covers the expenses if the transports get searched?”

The twi’lek shook her head this time and offered a wave to one of the syndicate enforcers who passed by. “Not exactly. There’s the base fee for our service _per trip_ , but clients _also_ pay an annual protection fee; non-refundable. Call it an insurance policy.” 

“So the damage costs come out of that pot; reasonable enough. Heavy competition in this market?”

“Some, but that’s just part of the business.”

“Somehow I get the feeling I’m not being vetted for a piloting job.”

Xaria let the comment slide without a response. She continued to guide him through the labyrinth, all the way to a curving ramp at the back which brought them to warehouse’s second level. More enforcers were present here, spread out at reasonable intervals to make security seem not sufficient, but not overbearing. The gunmen were all well armed with an assortment of rifles and blasters, and were themselves a diverse collection of species from all over the galaxy. 

Arden and Xaria passed through a series of thresholds and small quarters, and finally arrived at one door in particular which Xaria stopped in front of; she turned to face Arden. 

“Remember what I said: don’t be smug, and don’t think that charm is going to get you anywhere fast.” 

Arden cast a look down towards her, and then up at the door. “Not sure where you’d ever get the idea that I’m smug _or_ charming,” he muttered softly.

An irritable eye roll rebuked his comment, and Xaria nodded to the nearby sentry who swiped open the door with a fob on his wristlet. Beyond was a modest chamber with little decoration; only a few chairs and a couch were present, along with the desk centered near the back.

A quarren, robed in fine cloth, was seated in a chair in front of the desk; they turned to look back at Xaria and Arden as the two entered, but said nothing. 

“Bvash’j,” Xaria spoke up in a tone full of faux cheer, “-such a joy to see you back again.” 

The water choked hacks and gurgles of the quarren’s native tongue relayed a hasty, and discernibly unfavorable quip that drew out a wide, triumphant smile from Xaria. 

“Such a pleasure,” the twi’lek mused, averting her gaze from the quarren and shifting her attention instead to the woman standing behind the desk. 

“Boss; this is the brawler.”

“The killer, you mean” the woman answered. 

Even though the woman was facing away, Arden could tell from her boxy frame and the ridge-like crest of cartilage atop her head that Gardula was one of the green skinned reptilians known as falleen. She’d been standing by the window at the back of the room, her red eyes surveying the cargo operations taking place on the warehouse floor. Arden hadn’t noticed the window on his way in, leading to the presumption that it was tinted to limit visibility to outsiders. 

A long ponytail of sinister black hair at the back of the woman’s head swung about as she turned to face the new arrivals.

“Arden Vale,” Arden announced, thumbs tucking into the breast pockets of his jacket so that his arms could hang comfortably, and in clear view of all. The quarren watched on through milky, white blue orbs that never seemed friendly nor welcoming, but he didn’t speak up or introduce himself.

“I don’t care who you are. Death matches have been outlawed for ages,” Gardula said, her voice rough and craggy, more a croaking sound than anything else. “What gave you the bright idea to go killing someone in the ring? One of _my_ fighters, as it were.”

Arden turned his chin aside, gaze shifting towards the empty, water stained wall along the left side of the room. Though it would have added flavor to the room, there wasn’t any pattern or intricate design in the brown stain. 

“Accidents happen; fights get out of hand. His wasn’t the first unintentional killing in the ring; I’m sure he’d understand, whoever he was,” Arden answered. Xaria’s eyes rolled upwards and then closed, pairing perfectly with the slow exhale that slipped out through her nose.

“Smug little brat,” Gardula chided. She sat down in the chair and leveled a fierce gaze upon him; Xaria took the opportunity to move and shuffled to sit on the couch positioned against the right hand wall. “You ought to be grateful that you’re even standing here at all.”

“There are other work opportunities, with respect; I appreciate you taking the time, but this isn’t the only-”

“You should be grateful that you’re _alive_ ,” the reptilian snapped. “Did you think a deathmatch would go unnoticed? Did you think the cost of a fighter was something I’d choke down without issue?” Gardula had risen from the chair already; not even a full minute had passed since she’d first sat down.

Arden pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek and drew in a slow breath. 

“Why should I consider you for work? Why should I let you even walk out of here alive, you insolent little shit?”

Arden finally unhooked his thumbs from the jacket pockets and stretched his arms out to either side. “Gardula, you wanted me. Here I am. The kill was unintentional; the fight got out of hand. You have my most sincere apologies for the cost loss, but with all due respect, I’m not going to prostrate myself before you. We don’t know each other. We don’t work with each other, yet. And if I were to make a guess, I’d say that you don’t have the time to waste sparring jabs with me, and even if you do, I doubt you’ll want to spend it like that.”

Gardula leaned forward, a low growl itching its way up the back of her throat. Xaria finally spoke up, rising from the couch to stand in between the two. “Boss, he’s rough around the edges; this isn’t the first time I’ve heard him run his mouth. From what I’ve seen though, smugness aside, he’s a good fighter and he knows his way around an ugly situation. Other syndicates have been trying to hire him on, and we’d be better with him on our side than working for someone else.”

Arden leaned to one side and peered at Gardula past Xaria’s shoulder. “The Pyke Syndicate, in particular; they’ve been up my ass to no end.”

Xaria sent a look of ire lancing back towards him over her shoulder. “He’s a pain in the ass,” Xaria added. “Not going to argue otherwise. He's a blunt instrument, rather than a precision tool, but I think your initial take was right; you _can_ use him and get good results.” Xaria centered her focus on Gardula, a look of seriousness taking hold as she made her case. 

“What use do I have for a blunt instrument that makes messes?”

Xaria opened her mouth to speak, but Arden interrupted; he took a step forward and gently nudged the twi’lek aside. “Look, I’m not here to dance around like some showboy who has to prove himself. You already know what I can do, you know I’m not going to sit idle, and you know that there’s a clock running on the opportunity. If you have work that needs doing, let’s talk shop and you can pitch a price, but if not - why am I still here?”

Arden met Gardula’s fierce gaze, and he gestured over towards Xaria. “Why would she even bring me here if I wasn’t going to be worth your time? I may not know much about either of you, but I know the business well enough to understand that you don’t take meetings unless there’s a benefit.”

“How long have you been here on Nar Shaddaa, killer?”

“Here? Close to five weeks now; I’m not in the habit of sticking around in one place for too long.”

Gardula rapped her knuckles against the edge of her desk, gaze shifting towards Xaria, who met it in kind.

“The Niberius Swoop Gang,” Gardula finally said. “What do you know of them?”

“I know their reputation,” Arden answered, navigating to sit in the chair beside the quarren who had remained in the room as a silent observer; there wasn’t any need to search his features for an impression - his mind was open and easily readable. This was not one of Gardula’s advisors, but rather one of her associates - someone from another syndicate perhaps, but not exactly a rival. Arden could sense the gears turning in the man’s mind; he’d been analyzing the interaction, listening attentively for information he could exploit. 

The question of why he was present in the first place was less clear, however.

“They won the Telosian Grand Prix a few years back,” Arden continued, centering his mind’s eye on Gardula once more. “They’d been implicated in a murder investigation or something of the sorts, but I don’t recall anything coming of it.”

“A smuggling operation,” Xaria corrected. “And they escaped prosecution by turning in the dirt they had on a competitor. They’ve continued their smuggling ops and operate close by.”

Gardula tapped a button on the projector attached to her desk. A small hologram sprung to life for all four of them to see. The images depicted the tail end of a swoop race; long, sleek looking vessels blitzed through the final stretch of a track that was littered with obstacles. Once the last of the vehicles crossed the finish line, the projector cycled through images of known gang members. 

“And they’re a rival operation then, I’m guessing,” Arden replied, one hand running down to massage at his knee. “Cutting into your profits?”

“Not quite,” Gardula countered. “They move live cargo.”

Arden’s brows lofted. “Trafficking slaves, not cargo?”

“We would be so lucky,” Gardula croaked. “High public opinion and bribes keeps local officials from taking a swing at them, but they’re trouble for us all the same. They’re smuggling out people who shouldn’t be leaving.” She paused for a beat. “Those who can’t afford their debts anymore go to the Niberius Swoop Gang for passage off world.”

Arden’s gaze lingered on Gardula, but he subtly probed at Xaria and the quarren, sensing their emotions, reading the room -so to speak. Arden finally turned his head and made eye contact with the quarren who had been staring out at him the whole time. 

“And these are _your_ debtors,” Arden posited. 

The quarren’s stony expression didn’t crack or shift, but his gaze did flit towards Gardula, perhaps not having expected Arden to presume the connection. The puzzle pieces were coming together nicely.

“Trust doesn’t exist here on Nar Shaddaa,” Gardula spoke up, abruptly changing the topic. “But a proof of loyalty _can_ be made in the form of blood, sweat, and death. And a share of the risk. Take out the Niberius Swoop Gang and send a message to anyone else who thinks that popularity will be a shield. Debts come due, and there’s no running from that.”

“And that’s it? Take out a team of famous swoop racers and call it a day? No cover up or sabotage?”

“I don’t care how you go about it; the point is for it to be seen, though. For a blunt instrument like you, this shouldn’t be difficult,” Gardula replied with a snide tone.

Xaria glanced down towards Arden and took the opportunity to speak. 

“There’s a race late tonight that they’ll take part in at Circuit Zetanew, right near their own garage in the Corellian undercity; sub level three-twelve. You can bet they’ll all be together at their workshop just after the win; it’s a tradition for them.”

“Right. Swoop race, sub-level three-twelve. Kill the racers, wipe out the gang, make it public. What makes you think they’ll even win in the first place?”

Xaria deadpanned. “Have you ever heard of them losing?”

Arden considered the question and then nodded his understanding; she was right. “I take it that I’m on my own for this?”

Gardula didn’t answer his question. Instead she simply stared back at him for a long moment before sitting back down in her chair.

“There aren’t second chances; get it done.” Gardula jerked her chin towards Xaria. 

“What about the pay?”

“You get paid when the job is done,” Gardula chided; her tone betrayed her growing irritation, but Arden could sense a subtle calculation beneath that ire. She may have been short on temper, but Gardula was estimating his value, and based on the amount of slack she’d afforded him thus far, Arden surmised that few others had made it this far with her; he had an opening, but he couldn’t seem too eager to take it.

“That’s typically how arrangements go. What is the pay _rate_ ,” Arden clarified. 

“Five hundred. Six if you stop wasting time.” A lowball, but not unexpected.

“Two thousand credits,” Arden riposted. He could sense the whiplash from each of the three others.

“Four hundred,” Gardula rasped with a fierceness born of vexation. Now he was pushing it.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Arden teased. “Fifteen hundred, and not a credit less. The Niberius Swoop Gang has well over forty members active and on station, and they’re likely to be heavily armed. _Half_ upfront to cover the cost of supplies for the work, and the second half upon completion.”

Xaria’s eyes had closed and her head tipped back ever so slightly. 

Gardula, on the other hand, had both wide open; she was near the point of flames shouting out from her eye sockets.

“Fifteen hundred,” Arden repeated.

“Fifteen hundred,” Gardula seethed through clenched teeth. “And you,” she snapped, gaze lancing towards Xaria. “Make sure he doesn’t screw this up. Pay him.”

“On it, boss.” 

Arden took his time in rising to his feet. “One swoop gang, coming up.” He offered a half assed salute to the quarren, the small bow of his head to Gardula, and then flashed a well concealed wink towards Xaria as he turned and headed for the door. 

She stayed behind as Arden vanished from the room and the doors slid shut behind him.

“If he gets out of hand, clean it up before he becomes an issue. He’s your pick; he’s your problem,” Gardula warned.

Xaria offered an understanding bob of her head. She had been watching him. She had chosen him. And she knew damn well that the buck stopped with her.

“He’ll get it done, boss. And if not, I’ll take care of it myself.”

*

“You really like pushing buttons, don’t you,” Xaria shouted as she emerged through the side door; Arden had been leaning against the wall near the alleyway’s entrance, clearly waiting for her. He turned his head to peer back, but didn’t say a word. “Were you even thinking at all in there, or is airhead your default setting when handling business?”

Arden shrugged and then folded both arms against his chest; his focus settled on the crowds passing along the street. “It worked. Now I’m onto the next thing.”

“It just _barely_ worked. You don’t go pushing around syndicate leaders; it’s a stupid move and you’re lucky as all hell that she let you keep breathing in the first place.” Xaria sidled up next to Arden and leveled a stern look in his direction. “But you already knew that, I’d bet. You did it on purpose.”

“I don’t work for just anyone, I told you that. Sometimes you have to push back to see just who you’re dealing with.” Arden finally turned his head to gaze at her, assessing her reaction and reaching out to sense her emotions; she was frustrated, yes, but it hadn’t manifested into distrust, or hostility. At least not yet. “You didn’t tell her anything about last night, or what suspicions you have of me,” Arden added. It was an observation and not a question, but he let the comment linger without following up.

“The less she knows the better, at least for now. Until you’ve proven your loyalty, it’s not worth making things even more difficult. Trusting outsiders is risky, but if she were to find out that you’re...” Xaria let the comment hang. “She doesn’t need to know anything else. She especially doesn’t need to know about last night. Like _I_ said, that was pleasure, this is business.”

“But even still,” Arden countered, “you’re taking a huge risk in vouching for me. What’s in this for you? A promotion?”

Xaria scoffed. “There aren’t promotions in this industry, Arden; just extended job security. The most anyone in this business can do is buy themselves more favor, and more time.” She glanced down to double check the blaster holster at her hip, and then reached for his hand. After opening his hand she slapped a small collection of credits into his palm and then closed his fingers. 

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” she muttered. Xaria took a few steps forward, swung around, and then walked backwards - her gaze still fixed on Arden. “And if you handle yourself well enough... _if_ you pull this off, it buys me good will and it gets you paid. Most of all, it keeps Gardula and her bosses happy. That’s what we get out of it.”

“There’s always a bigger fish,” Arden mused. “So what now. Where are we off to?”

“ _You’re_ on your own, airhead. Take out the swoop gang and I’ll... be in touch. Don’t mess this up. And, if you play your cards right, maybe I’ll see you again before Gardula does.”

“Hey,” Arden called out. He reached towards her with a hand and beckoned her back into the alleyway with the repeated curl of his index and middle fingers. She lingered in the midst of the passing crowds for only a moment before indulging his request and returning; she stopped just inside of arm’s reach, planting her feet squarely in front of him.

Arden lowered his voice.

“I don’t leave my affairs up to luck or chance; no cards,” he said. Xaria’s gaze sharpened, questioning his meaning. “I _will_ see you again before Gardula; tonight, after the swoop race. You know where I’ll be waiting for you.”

A delicate twisting of nerves in her gut swallowed down a breath of air which she held in for a long beat. Her tongue rose to trace back and forth along the roof of her mouth, and she carefully surveyed the zabrak and his near imperious expression. She felt the same stirring of lustful ador welling up inside of her that had hounded her all night, and her gaze shifted from a focus on his mien to a closer admiration of his hardened features. The bruises from his fight were still visible through the thin fabric of his shirt, marring his chest and well toned abdomen, along with a few scrapes that marred his face; the coarseness and damage only further added to his appeal, and Xaria suddenly became aware of the scratch marks on her own back once more.

Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she reflected on the rough but memorable treatment they’d delivered. She offered a slow but confident nod of assurance. 

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll expect it,” Arden assured her.

It took a considerable amount of restraint even for him to not reach out and pull her close, but despite the powerful lust daring him to advance upon her - he held his ground.

Xaria swallowed, averted her gaze, and turned to depart into the crowd. Arden watched on, his lips curling with salacious desire. As hard as he had been trying, he couldn’t deny to himself the gut churning sensation that threatened his self control whenever she met his gaze in the way that she did. He could already hear the chiding remarks from his former master on the dangers of such a distraction, but he wasn’t their pawn anymore. Arden walked his own path, now, and he’d make every mistake he desired.

*

The undercity was bloated with malefaction and sin. Nightfall, and the swoop race, were both rapidly approaching, and yet Arden had taken his time descending to the lower levels of the Corellian sector. He was allowing the crowds to swell. 

Nar Shaddaa was a dark and grimy place even in the highest circles of society, but the undercity in particular was a special sort of hive, one full of nefarious and depraved wickedness. Beings from all species and worlds slithered and sidled across the streets and avenues which were jam packed with crowds that writhed beneath bright colored electric signs. They throngs of people migrated back and forth past illegally parked speeders and market stalls that brewed a concoction of scents: Calamari broths, Jogan fruits mashed into a pulp and blended with spices, Mananian eels, and even smoked Garjoki meat. Clinging to that intoxicating aroma was the stink of lust and sweat from so many from all over, all at once.

The thrumming cacophony of music from hundreds of establishments on both sides of the streets and avenues leaked out into the approaching night like slush pouring into sewer drains; to some this synthesis might have provoked a migraine, but for those here the vibes being fabricated were infectious and inescapable, and wholly desired. Bodies jived and ground against each other in the open; hands and tendrils caressed, and tongues lavished one another in the neon saturated oasis of depravity. It was a protracted orgy without the release, and it kept each and every person in the mix on the precipice of euphoria, with all their senses stimulated by drink and drug.

Arden slipped through the crowd with relative ease, all too familiar with the nature of these masses and how best to navigate their often arresting grasp. He followed the signs overhead through a labyrinth of avenues and streets that offered more of the same; there were almost a hundred billion souls living upon Nar Shaddaa, and a visitor might easily have presumed they’d all converged here to revel in the depraved ambience. Turn after turn, Arden continued on, stopping only when he reached a side street which broke off from the main avenue; the side street offered some respite from the aggressive vibes on the main avenues.

The aurebesh font illuminated on a board above the building ahead read “KAKRASH GARAGE & REPAIRS”. The flickering, nearly extinguished lights behind the middle characters on the sign completed the appearance; this place was a dump, and it was exactly what had been expected.

A handful of rodian, weequay, and ardennian bruisers loitered outside, parking their asses on plasteel canisters, crates, and wrecked speeders that were stacked up or discarded and damaged. Two of the three garage doors on the front of the building were wide open, bleeding fluorescent yellowish white light out onto the otherwise multi-colored streets. The sound of metal being welded and alien tongues chattering over the background crackle of a sports game was almost inviting, but the otherwise thuggish atmosphere of the place broadcast a warning for those without business to stay well enough away.

Arden had no business officially, but he dared to approach anyways. 

The bruisers outside all rose to their feet, surrounding Arden as he brazenly walked through one of the open garage doors. He didn’t make it more than a half dozen feet into the workshop before he was surrounded completely.

Speeders, swoop bikes, scrap parts from starships, and just about every piece of junk one could think up was packed into the garage, but somehow the gang members were able to weave through it as if they were wading through nothing more than shallow water. A rodian, clad in an orange track suit and wielding an electric beat stick, stepped up into Arden’s face and shoved out a hand, a single infundibulum prodding at the zabrak’s chest between the flaps of his jacket.

“Uj an pujintan kadak,” the bug-headed alien demanded, head tipping from one side to the other as his massive eyes sized Arden up. 

“What? You’re just going to shoot anyone who walks in,” Arden challenged, not bothering, yet, to swat away the rodian’s hand. More of the gang members were weaving through the piles of scrap and vehicles under repair to join in and see what the commotion was. The rodian patted his extended arm with the tip of his beat stick.

“Kus avas. Kadak, an massudo.”

“What can I say,” Arden answered as he slowly raised his arms, palms turning up towards the ceiling. “I like pushing buttons. But you don’t want to go and pick a fight with m-”

“My eye,” a bellowing voice roared. The sound of four massive hands slapping down against the hood of a nearby speeder at the back end of the crowd made some of the less experienced bruisers jump. Eyes and heads turned, but Arden kept his gaze fixed squarely on the rodian who, likewise, didn’t break focus. “Here’s a face I wasn’t thinking to see again.”

A larger alien with four arms and two massive feet pushed his way through the crowd, arms and giant hands shoving away the gang members in the process who lingered along his path. The besalisk, with his bullfrog-like throat which bulged out and his four pronged head crest that ran from the bridge of his nose to the base of his skull in the back, seemed anything but hostile and threatening. That aura of welcoming positivity rippled across the assembly of gang members, but didn’t fully infect the whole lot of them; most lowered their weapons, but none yet moved away. 

“I was in the neighborhood,” Arden responded, offering a condescending smirk to the rodian who finally backed away. The besalisk approached and wrapped his two upper arms around Arden and squeezed. 

“In the neighborhood,” the alien repeated with a thunderous laugh. “I’ll have that bet. No square doubt in my mind I’d win though. In the neighborhood! HA! What are you _really_ doing here?”

“I figured I’d stop by and make sure no one had crashed themselves into a wall.” Arden reached up to pat at the massive alien’s shoulders before eased out of the embrace. 

“No walls here, just obstacles on the track.” The alien turned towards the bruisers who had stuck around to watch. “This here is one of them Jedi who helped us on Onderon; show some respect.” The last of them lowered their weapons, seeming to finally relax in Arden’s presence, but only at the insistence of their captain. The alien waved three of his four arms at the crowd, dispersing them back into the depths of the garage. “Go on, go on. Back to it with you lot. Work won’t be doing itself in here.”

“Nice spot you got here,” Arden said as he drifted away from where he’d been standing; he took a casual stroll through the garage and ran his fingers along the frames of vehicles under repair and the edge of open barrels full of spare parts. “Been here long, Kazoul?”

“Oh, come now lad, you’d not be here on small talk for no reason. What’s brought a Jedi to Nar Shaddaa, eh?”

“About that,” Arden mused, gaze turning up towards the ceiling where a single swoop bike was suspended on a lift; an ottegan and a chagrian, both no older than twenty by Arden’s estimate, were suspended from rigging set into the ceiling, enabling them to work freely on the swoop. “Let’s just say I’m not here on official business.”

“Arden,” Kazoul groaned with a thick, gravely voice. “Don’t tell me you’re on the-”

Arden shook his head and waved off the thought. “No, no. No trouble, I promise. Just a difference of opinions is all.”

“You left the Jedi?” Kazoul planted his two largest hands on the back hood of a speeder and leaned in, sinking the vessel until its undercarriage nearly scraped against the floor. “You had a good thing going, lad. What trouble came up there with them _sorcerers_?”

“We didn’t see eye to eye on how to get things done; that’s it. There’s no bad blood or trouble, I promise. But you and your gang, on the other hand...”

Kazoul’s beady eyes narrowed, suspicion growing.

“Gardula,” Arden said in response to the unspoken question.

Kazoul hacked out an annoyed groan and slapped a hand hard on the back hood of the speeder; the metal warped under the force of the impact. “That daughter of a whore can rot in the gutters. What now?!”

“Let’s just say she’d like it very much if you didn’t exist.” Arden heaved himself up onto a pile of scrap across from where Kazoul was standing, crossed his ankles, and folded both hands into his lap. Kazoul let out a low, agitated sigh.

“Gardula has wanted us out for years,” he explained. “She’s tried everything from bribes to extortion, but we hold our own. What’s she cooking up now?” 

Kazoul stared back at Arden, a look of calculation hanging on his features. Arden could sense the man’s unease, and his growing suspicion. 

“Don’t worry,” Arden assured him, “I wouldn’t dream of it. If I were planning on sweeping you out I’d have come in guns blazing. That said, if it’s not me, it’s going to be someone else, and I doubt they’ll give you a heads up.”

“So, it’s come to this. And you’re working for Gardula now.”

“Not quite; it’s complicated.” 

“Complicated _how_ ,” Kazoul demanded, his two top arms rising to fold across his chest. 

“Well, for starters - I don’t much like the syndicates,” Arden mused playfully. “Trust me when I say it’s best that we don’t talk about it. That aside, we need to get you and your gang shuffling along and out the door, though.”

“Leave? Pack up and go? That’s your suggestion?”

Arden tipped his head back and let out a slow breath. “Yes, Kazoul; that’s what I’m suggesting. Unless you’d rather pick a fight with the syndicate and push Gardula to march an army down here and wipe you off the map. It seems like she’s done with the indirect approaches; she wants you _gone_. We can both benefit from this, though; you just have to trust me.”

“Trust you? Benefit? How? You think we can... we can just cut a deal?” Kazoul’s two lower arms waved about wildly. “If she wants us out, it’s not an open ended thing for negotiation!”

Arden raised his hands, palms up to calm the man down. “Breath, Kazoul. I’m not saying you should make a deal. She _does_ want you out of the picture for good, you’re right; you smuggling people out is cramping her style, and that of her associates. We can get your gang out in one piece, though - no one has to die.”

“Those wretches,” Kazoul growled. “Gardula _and_ her damned syndicate friends. They’ll squeeze the last credits from every last person here, and then start siphoning blood if they get the chance. Anyone we sneak out is on the brink, Arden, or already being hounded by her enforcers. Half the merchants in the sector are already up to their neck in debt to those thugs; they’re trading their own children in for labor just to keep a roof over their heads.”

That prompted a small hiccup in both of Arden’s hearts; it was always the children who suffered the worst. 

“What else does Gardula have a hand in, Kazoo, aside from cargo transport and smuggling?”

“She hires and loans out the muscle for other syndicates; she gets weapons and personnel in and out of the system, and then rents them to drug lords and slavers who need the extra bodies.”

“So, it’s safe to assume she has the firepower to run you out if my maneuvering here doesn’t work.”

Kazoul kept a long, unhappy stare fixed on Arden, but broke the focus to shoot a questioning side glance at one of the bruisers who’d remained close at his side. The associate shook his head, a subtle affirmation that, indeed, they wouldn’t be able to withstand an assault.

“Alright,” Kazoul exhaled, “spill. What’s your plan?”

“Ever thought of taking a vacation?”

Kazoul scoffed. “That’s it? You want to send us packing some place else; let the sector fall completely under their control? You might as well go and shoot the merchants themselves!”

“Woah, woah,” Arden interjected, hands rising once more to calm the man. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I may not be a Jedi anymore, but I’m definitely not one of _them_ ; I don’t want people to suffer, but I also know that if nothing changes, you and your gang _will_ be wiped out, and the same result comes about either way.” Arden slipped down from where he’d been seated and steadily approached, planting himself on the far side of the speeder which rested between them. “Send away for a bit, let me do my thing, and then come back when it’s time. I have a plan.”

“A plan. Just like on Onderon?”

Arden waited a deliberate beat for effect and then answered the besalisk with a well practiced tone of false uncertainty. “Not exactly. Not as much destruction this time, I’m hoping. We’ll call Onderon an improvised plan. Look,” Arden added, now moving around the speeder to come stand beside Kazoul; he reached up to pat at one of the alien’s arms. “I know this isn’t easy, but you’ve got a bad hand right now and you need to make the best of it. Gardula expects your gang to be wiped out and your garage torched by night’s end, just after the race. One big sweeping move, and all of her problems are handled.” 

Arden guided the besalisk away from the speeder, taking them both deeper into the garage. He didn’t know the layout, of course, but he could sense a path being plotted in Kazoul’s mind; Arden simply followed that direction. 

“Once that’s done, Kazoul, I’ll be in their good graces and that brings me one step closer to the stop.”

A low rumble of consideration thundered in the alien’s chest as he considered the proposal. 

“And you burn it down from within?”

“Nothing but ashes.”

“You know that won’t be the end, lad,” Kazoul countered with a sober tone. “There’s always another syndicate; another competitor; another clutch of bastards just waiting to pounce,” the besalisk lamented forcefully, two hands clenching into fists as if he were crushing the life from some invisible being caught in his grasp.

Arden nodded his understanding as they slipped into the backroom of the garage; Kazoul barely fit through the door and had to turn sideways to enter. A few couches lined the walls of the room, but aside from a desk at one end and a chair large enough for the besalisk, there wasn’t anything of import. 

“You can’t beat them all, Arden.”

“I know, but I have plans in mind to stave off the worst. Most of the district officials are all paid off, but not _all_ of them. And with the right evidence, the right plans, and the right people on the inside, there’s a chance at keeping control out of the syndicate’s hands. If it’s kept on the down low... this will all happen too fast for the syndicates to react. Then you can make your return.”

“This is no small task, Arden; especially without the help of your Jedi. You’re alone?”

“Something like that. One step at a time though, old friend.”

Kazoul sat down on the edge of the desk and Arden plopped down uncomfortably onto one of the couches that had sinkholes large enough to fit a rancor. 

“You Jedi don’t believe in chance, do you?”

Arden’s gaze narrowed a fraction, and he could sense a sudden pang of concern flutter through the large alien. “What is it?”

“We’re not in the race tonight. There won’t be any gathering.”

“What? Why not?” Arden leaned forward, suddenly alert and more attentive than he had been before.

“We were, you see, but our top racer got into a scrap about a week ago now; a few syndicate enforcers jumped him outside the cantina. No doubt they were trying to scare us off, but they didn’t just rough him up - they put him out for good. He’s alive, but his mind ain’t what it was; he can’t race anymore.” 

“And you need him for tonight. Dammit,” Arden muttered under his breath. “What about the other racers? They’re not up to it?” And then Arden sensed the other pang of unease; he already didn’t like the words that were about to be said next. 

“No, no. Don’t give me that look, lad,” the Kazoul cautioned. I saw you ride back on Onderon; you’re more than capable. None of our racers have the reaction time or powers that you do.”

“Running from bounty hunters is one thing, but swoop racing is an entirely different game all together, Kazoul.” Arden pressed a hand to his chest. “And if I crash? It’s not just me that dies - it’s you and your gang too, because I’m certainly not the only one they’ve lined up to handle this. We’re lucky I got this job instead of something else, honestly.”

Kazoul leaned forwards, two hands resting on his knees and the other two gesturing out at Arden. “You... you are a Jedi, lad. You can do anything.”

“And _you_ are putting your gang’s reputation on the line; you’ve never had a rider outside of your own crew. I have training, Kazoul, but that doesn’t mean I can work miracles; we’re not instantly good at everything we do. I’ve every confidence that Skywalker would say I’m destined to fail just to learn a lesson here; so I’ll take a page from his book and stop while I’m ahead.”

“This race is big, Arden. The winnings from it are enough to get another two runs of refugees off his world.” Kazoul clasped his outstretched hands together. “We’ve been looking for a racer to replace Idikien, and here you are. This is a fair deal, lad; win the race and we’ll vanish, at least for long enough for you to do your thing. It’s not easy or reasonable to get the gang together for a huge bash without a win; we both need this. We can dress you up as one of our own racers; no one would notice the difference. Idikien is an espirion; so long as we keep a helmet on you it’ll go off without a hitch.”

Arden stared back at the man, his front teeth clenching as he considered the available options; he’d not expected or sensed this at all. But the truth was plain to see: there wasn’t any other easy way.

“High speed racing,” Arden muttered. “Small margin for error. High probability of a fatal crash. Slim chance of beating the record time. What the hell; what better way to go out?”


	3. The Swoop Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden takes to the swoop track in order to see through his task, but it prompts a startling self-reflection, and sparks a deeper passion between himself and his twi'lek counterpart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up/prior warning for graphic erotic content.

####  **[Chapter III: The Swoop Race]**

######  _ Nar Shaddaa _

Arden leaned forward against the railing, his forearms now the only thing holding him back from tipping over the edge. He’d been hunched forward atop the elevated walkway for a half hour now, and still had found no strong enough compulsion to move along. 

Far down below, an endless stream of race spectators drifted this way and that inside the terminal, either rushing to place their bets and then scramble for seats near the viewing screens, or hastening towards clusters of their cohorts who had gathered like flocks of birds. The crowds were alight with anticipation, brimming with palpable excitement at the prospect of yet another night of adrenaline pumping races. Even the droids cleaning debris off the track were bouncing with eagerness, though it was easy enough to presume they were simply operating just as they’d been programmed to. Arden bore a silent appreciation for the contagious energy that electrified the air.; if nothing else it distracted him from the terrifying weight of himself being a part of the race soon to come. 

Large display screens were mounted on columns and walls all across the area, and each one was looping through a gallery of advertisements, news bulletins, and the profiles of dozens of racers from half as many gangs and crews. Arden’s picture wasn’t included of course, but the brightly colored, orange-red face of Idikien was. Small cheers broke out each time the racer’s mug appeared. He was the world renowned champion racer from the Niberius Swoop Gang, and Arden groaned softly as the man’s stats swept across the bottom of the screen. 

A mind churning nineteen point two nine seconds on an eight kilometer track. 

There was no way Arden would be besting, or even coming close to matching nineteen point  _ anything _ . Idikien nearly hit fifteen hundred kilometers per hour on that heat, and when one considered the startling number of obstacles on any given track, it only made the feat more outstanding. Arden dipped his chin down, closed his eyes, and let a slow breath escape through his nostrils. 

He was fucked.

If he failed to match Idikien’s heats then people would suspect something, and yet even if he  _ did _ match the speeds Idikien had pushed, Arden could just as easily collide with any one of the dozens of obstacles on the track, and that would bring a swift conclusion to his hard fought efforts. There wasn’t any reasonable solution, he was stuck here grappling what to do. 

Arden sensed a presence lurking behind him; even in his wallowing despair, his keen senses were ever watchful. A soft skinned hand brushed against the back of his neck and a set of fingers slid upwards to the top of his scalp, carefully dancing past his spiked horns and treating him with a tenderness laden with wanting. Arden cracked open an eye, glanced sidelong, and found Xaria settling into place beside him. She perfectly matched the aura he had sensed. 

Xaria was staring over the railing and down at the crowds below in the exact same manner that Arden had just moments earlier. Her fingers slowly eased their way down to the back of his neck, massaging the skin and muscle beneath her touch with careful, deliberate motions, not seeming to want anything from him. That was a relief. Arden let out a breath as the apprehension melted off of his body like wax beneath a flame; a low, deep chested rumble of contentment was coaxed out and Xaria spread a playful grin, finally turning to meet his gaze.

“Aren’t you supposed to be handling a job?”

Arden uttered a carefully measured, throaty growl in response as he finally stood up; Xaria’s hand fell away. 

“I  _ am _ handling a job. Can’t you see I’m hard at work here,” he mused playfully.

Xaria scoffed, but the grin stretched across her lips hung in place without fading. 

“Are you at least making progress, or is this you not knowing wanting to ask for help,” she inquired with a well practiced tone of disinterest. For Arden however, she was far too easy to read; averting her gaze back towards the passing crowds did nothing to hide from him the weight of concern pressing upon her mind.

“I’m surprised you even need to ask, Xaria; where’s your faith in me?”

“Why should I have faith when I have the authority to demand results,” Xaria replied, a cocky smile replacing the previously seen and mischievously aligned grin. She turned and rested both elbows on the railing behind her. “This job affects me, too; I have to make sure it goes off without a hitch.” She slid an inch closer and tipped her chin up towards him. “So even if I  _ do _ have every confidence in you, handsome, I still have to ask.”

Arden raised a hand to cup her chin, rooting her place as he took two steps to the left and planted himself directly in front of her; he leaned in until his lips were a mere inch away from her mouth. Xaria tipped her head back, wholly expecting him to follow through with the motion - but he held his place and instead answered her in a quiet, husky tone.

“Everything is going according to plan. But I don’t share details until it’s absolutely necessary. All you need to know,” he said, chin turning from left to right so that she’d feel the faint brush of his lips against her own, “-is that I’m in control, and everything will happen exactly as I want it to.” 

Xaria searched his eyes for hints and clues beyond the obvious tease and innuendo, and Arden could sense her mind churning.

“You really think you can handle the Niberius Swoop Gang on your own,” she asked with a soft voice, her tone not drifting anywhere close to skepticism, but rather just genuine curiosity. Arden could have been wrong, but he thought he sensed a small pang of concern coming from her. “Jedi or not, these aren’t your typical street scum.”

“Oh, is that so,” he mused. “Tell me more,” he cooed while wrapping one arm around her back. 

He stepped forward, his chest and groin now pinning her up against the railing; he could sense her heartbeat hastening its pace. The warmth of his breath against her skin had sent chills cascading along the length of her spine, ripples which then traveled to the very tips of her lekku where they lingered. It instantly summoned memories from their first encounter. 

Her words came out after a moment of careful consideration, barely spoken above a whisper as she leaned into his touch.

“Rumor has it that back on Onderon a few years ago, they staged a heist; they hit a governor who was siphoning credits from public funds.” Her breath hitched as Arden drifted closer; it was still not a kiss, but just enough to tease her with hope. A low growl rolled off his tongue and lower lip as he waited, and listened. “They led the security forces across the city on swoop bikes, taking enough attention away for a  _ real _ team to sneak in and steal back the funds, and then some.” 

“So I should be careful, hmm,” Arden asked, feigning ignorance. He could feel her heart racing given their close proximity, just like he could see the coloring in her cheeks brightening.

“Very,” she breathed out, gaze locked firmly onto his eyes. “They’re clever, and I can’t have you getting shot just yet.”

A laugh escaped from Arden’s chest. “Not yet. Good to know.” He brushed his thumb across the edge of her jaw, tipping her chin up another inch. “I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”

“I know you will. So tell me,  _ Arden _ , is standing up here part of your grand plan to outthink them?”

“I consider this opposition research,” he mused, nimbly deflecting the issue. “And to be clear,  _ Xaria _ , I’m  _ very _ thorough.”

Xaria didn’t wait for him any longer; the twi’lek inched up on her toes and planted a firm kiss to his mouth; she’d had enough of his teasing. 

Arden eagerly returned the affection, his mouth opening for his tongue to sweep out and push past her parted lips. He felt the ghostly caress of her fingers as she slipped a hand and arm beneath his jacket, tracing along the muscles and bony notches of his ribs as she explored, clearly wanting the warmth of his core. Abandoning her chin, Arden slipped his hand to the back of her neck, the column of bone and muscle and nerve fitting perfectly in his grasp as if they’d been custom made for one another. His thumb and forefinger massaged deep into the muscle there as he fell deeper into the kiss. 

Arden’s tongue lashed against her own; he reveled in the taste of her, and the lingering flavor of consumed drinks and chemicals. Xaria didn’t hold back either, quickly sinking her nails into the back of his shirt while her other hand groped at his throat and cheek, finding comfort in the rugged texture of his skin. Arden then broke their connection, but for only the briefest of moments; his head inched ever so slightly away after leaving a ghostly kiss across her open mouth, and a soft whine answered his move. 

Her eyes fluttered open, just in time as Arden allowed a string of his saliva to roll over the edge of his lip, and drip down into her open mouth. She extended her lower lip to catch it with a look of complete adoration. Her tongue slipped forward and then curled inwards, carrying his spittle to the back of her throat before swallowing with exaggerated flair for show. A heated breath cut loose from Arden’s chest and he plunged himself in once more, this time with an aggressive hunger. Xaria was all too eager to indulge it, and herself reveled in the passion. It was hot; an inferno that continued to warm within both of them; a fire which threatened to burn away their living flesh if only they gave in. 

The sensation hit Arden  _ too _ hard.

He felt the sudden urge to tear his jacket off, to embrace the burning, primal sensation that was demanding to be unleashed. He wasn’t alone in that yearning. Xaria’s hand at his back urged him to close the distance, and this time he indulged  _ her _ . He bucked forwards, grinding his pelvis up against her; the motion drew a quiet moan from the twi’lek. 

This was the only thing from either of them that felt natural; it was instinctual, and all consuming. They were slaves to it and nothing more, and that itself was frightening.

Arden could sense the conflict of emotions swirling within her, just as he could feel it within himself; with the heat and passion they endured came a blurring of obligation and indulgence; a conflict of interest; an attachment that neither might possess the strength to break away from.

A weakness.

Arden could find no reason why he should resist its pull though, nothing aside from the single remaining anchor holding him down: pride. He had taken a gamble in trusting a stranger, in letting Xaria in, in compromising himself and his plan by entangling with her, sure, but he could not risk failing completely. Everything counted on him following through to the end with his task. If he couldn’t complete this job without being drawn off task, then the Jedi will have been right, and  _ that _ Arden could not stomach.

He broke from the kiss, leaving the embrace with a rough bite to her lip that drew blood. Xaria took in a sharp breath and immediately brought up a hand, two fingers pressing into her lip before surveying the substance; she didn’t  _ need _ the visual when she could taste the irony tang, but it, too, was instinctual. She lifted her focus to meet Arden’s gaze, panting heavily in the wake of his disconnect, and found a mischievous, taunting grin staring back at her. 

He leaned forward to force a final, deep kiss to her mouth before stepping away, a tinge of red now staining his lips. 

“Watch the races; and don’t forget where you’re supposed to be later tonight,” he called out before turning and vanishing into the crowds.. 

*

Swoop bike engines roared like wounded kath hounds, a symphony of whines, screeches, and mechanical howls that dared to rise up over one another. Despite having Idikien’s helmet covering his ears, Arden could still  _ feel _ every thrum and vibration as if he had a hand on the engines themselves. The hanger he was standing in opened right onto the track, and a few of the pods, including his own, were already being pushed out. A dozen others were undergoing final upgrades, and were parked along the walls of the hanger.

One of Kazoul’s heavy hands clamped down on Arden’s shoulder, swinging him about to face the energy shield covering the hanger’s track-facing entrance. 

“It’s going to be fine, lad,” the four armed alien said. “You might not be a professional, but you know how to handle yourself. Just trust your instincts.” 

Arden’s gaze sharpened as he stared out through the visor. 

“And what if I can’t get through to the end?”

Kazoul hissed out a dismissal of the idea. “None of that talk; you’ll do fine. Focus on the track, not the other racers; that’s the key. And remember, at the end of the race, all that matters is your heat.  _ That’s _ where you keep your attention.”

Arden clenched his jaws and turned his head to glance down the length of track; this particular circuit boasted a six kilometer, rhombus shaped tunnel which was balanced on a single corner. The four track lanes, two on the bottom and two on the ceiling, were tilted at nearly forty degrees a piece, offering the challenge of constant distractions on all sides. Four challengers would be racing simultaneously and each one would face a harrowing course full of obstacles scattered all across their section of the track. This wasn’t podracing, and there wouldn’t be any risk of crashing into  _ each other _ , but the stationary obstacles were more than enough of a problem on their own.

More important were the boost pads, glowing strips which lined the track at various intervals; these accelerated any craft which passed over it. Most species had faster reflexes than the average human and were able to train themselves for faster reaction times, but then again, most racers spent their whole lives preparing for the track. While Arden was certainly no human, he wasn’t a professional racer either. Here, Arden would have only his limited senses to draw upon, and of course - the Force.

Kazoul gave his shoulder a tight squeeze and then shoved him forwards. “Go get ‘em.”

Go get ‘em. 

That was all Arden had to do. No sweat.

The moment he stepped forward, any lingering assurance and confidence dissolved into fear. The whirring, electrically charged roar of the track overtook Arden the second he passed through the energy shield protecting the hanger. It was a world sundering howl of wind, enabled by the nature of the track’s shape and straightness; the track was a wind tunnel, and all the machines of the undercity bled out into it, fueling the cacophony. 

On the same level track on Arden’s left, one of three competitors emerged from an identical hanger and strode towards their swoop with seemingly masterful calm. Arden looked up and found the other two racers doing the same right above him; the sight of someone walking on the ceiling left an unsettling sensation brewing in Arden’s gut. The track had gravity stabilizers for all four tracks, but that didn’t mean it looked right. Arden lowered his gaze and tried to orient himself with his own strip of track dead ahead.

Four competitors, four identical tracks, four highly advanced swoop bikes, and endless possible catastrophes. Arden trudged towards his own speeder, remembering halfway to his destination that he was meant to be someone; he wasn’t Arden Vale right now, he was the espirion swoop racer of great renown named Idikien, the best that the Niberius Swoop Gang had to offer.

Arden glanced towards one of the cam droids hovering near his pod and offered a small wave. Did racers wave on the track? Was there some distinct hand signal that Idikien used? Too late in any case. With as much confidence as he could muster, Arden mounted the bike. 

His was a CK-9 Echo, a six meter long swoop with the chassis in front boasting sleek, white and coal blue panels which curved inward towards the mid section. An intake vent sat low on the front and ran half the length of the bike, allowing for air to rush through the body and cool the engines. Both panels on the chassis swept outwards to either side of the driver’s seat, offering limited protection from the elements, while in front a sloped plate of glass offered a clear viewport for the rider. Sitting low behind the driver’s seat were a set of twin ion engines, the frames for both tapered towards the tail end, maximizing thrust.

Arden felt out the seat and handlebars ahead of him, fingers running over the surfaces as if he could absorb some mastery of the machine through touch alone. Even if that  _ were _ possible, his gloves wouldn’t permit it. Hope was the only thing that would get him through this. At the very least, Arden was clad in the Niberius Swoop Gang’s racing suits, a one piece that matched the bike’s color schemes; if he died, no one would be able to tell that Arden wasn’t one of them. Not much of a reassurance, that bit.

If Arden did perish, so too would the entirety of the Niberius Swoop Gang, and then no one would even bother to ask questions in the first place.

A loud buzzing echoed inside the tunnel and a near blinding red light sparked into existence in the center of the tunnel, carefully placed so that all four racers could see it. Arden glanced to the side and then upwards once again, spotting each of the three racers who were seated comfortably and already itching for the green light. He could sense their anticipation, their eagerness; there was fear, but it was a fear born of thrill, not of terror. These were racers that lived for the adrenaline; to them, courting death on the track was the closest they could come to feeling alive.

In that respect, they held a clear advantage over Arden Vale.

The light flashed to orange. Arden steeled himself. He grasped the handles tight, pressed hard on the brakes, and sent shockwaves of thrust through the craft, firing the engines to warm the steel and get a true feel for the vibrations of his craft.

Yellow.

An abrupt pang of worry echoed through Arden’s mind, but it wasn’t his own. Arden was certainly near the point of whole body trembling with how afraid he was, but this sensation was coming from elsewhere. 

Xaria.

His mind’s eye settled upon her, and he sensed her presence close by; she was seated before one of the viewing screens. She was watching. 

Another pang, this time of fear.

She knew it was him, somehow.

Green.

The mechanical crack of four different bikes igniting engines struck with the force of lightning; the racers bolted down the track. 

Forty kilometers per hour in the blink of an eye.

Then ninety kilometers per hour.

Arden could see obstacles on the track emerging from the ground, a dizzying maze of barriers of varying heights and widths that would force the racers to weave back and forth, all while trying to align with the booster pads scattered throughout.

A hundred and fifty kilometers per hour.

Arden pulled hard on the handlebar and felt the force of acceleration shove him deep into the driver’s seat. 

Two hundred. Four hundred.

The first obstacles came up fast, but Arden could see these easily.

He cut left and the bike answered his directions, but he guided it too far. The controls were sensitive. Of course they were, but there wasn’t any use in corrections, not at the risk of over-correcting and losing velocity.

Arden blitzed past the first barrier at a generous distance; the pass happened faster than he could even register, but it was already on to the next.

Two more barriers ahead which would force Arden back to the center of the track, and then a boost pad just behind the left most barrier. The swoop bike screamed through the open space and Arden yanked the craft to the side once more.

A whining, electric rattle sounded as the pad magnetically accelerated the bike. 

Eight hundred kilometers per hour. The inertial dampeners on the bike were now straining to keep up, and the force of acceleration was bleeding through, adding pressure upon Arden’s body and slowing his ability to react.

The other bikes and racers too. Arden couldn’t look up or over to see his competitors, but he could sense them. Rider two, beside him, was just slightly ahead, and the two racers above were keeping pace with Arden almost perfectly. Each of them was beginning to feel the heat.

The obstacles were coming faster now, the boost pads too, and Arden found himself slipping behind as he tried to preempt each adjustment needed to thread the course. At this speed, even the best of the best were missing some of the pads and just barely weaving through the obstacles, but Arden wasn’t even close to matching them. He couldn’t win against professionals.

Just like with the fight before he’d met Xaria, a voice thundered into Arden’s mind, shattering his focus. It was the very last thing he wanted to hear at the moment.

_ “There is no challenge you cannot rise to face; but that perseverance comes from a place deep inside of you, and it will seek victory through many means.” _

Arden clenched the accelerator and pushed the swoop bike to nine hundred kilometers per hour. Wind, and the heat of exhaust in the tunnel, was washing over the craft, and were it not for the sloped cover of the windshield Arden would have been dead long ago; but even that protective barrier couldn’t keep out the static burn of the hot air which rushed past. He tried to focus on that, and the pads, and the obstacles, and the other racers - anything but Luke Skywalker’s voice.

_ “Not every challenge is going to be solved quickly, or easily; there will be the temptation to use our powers, to use the Force, to overcome adversity and staunch opposition. Our path is often fraught with compromise, and that, when given into, can lead us down a darker path.”  _

His teeth clenched shut as he tried to block out the voice. For the briefest of moments he shut his eyes, viewing the track ahead through the Force, and trusting in his senses instead of his eyes. Even still, it wasn’t enough to gain on his rivals; they began to pull ahead. Their mastery and feel for the craft was beyond his ability, and nothing could improve his skills in an instant, not even the Force. But while Arden couldn’t become better, the others could be restrained... 

_ “Remember this, if nothing else; a Jedi uses the Force to protect and help others, but never to harm, and never to attack. The key to our way is patience, and restraint; there is always another way-” _ Arden banished Skywalker’s words from his mind, casting the memory into the dark recesses of his mind. 

He reached out through the force and flooded the lead driver’s mind with a burst of the worry and frustration that had been building inside Arden; it was a transfer of weight, a mitigation of his disadvantage. It worked. Arden pulled hard on the handlebars once more, cutting his swoop to the right and knitting a tight course through a zig zag of barriers and pads, each one jolting his bike onwards as the racer to his left slowed.

Eleven hundred kilometers per hour.

He could sense the panic from the lead racer as they suddenly fell behind; it wouldn’t last indefinitely, but they were halfway down the track already and there wasn’t much time to catch up. 

Arden reached out again, but it brought a pang of discomfort this time; his hands were beginning to shake, tremors, as if his own body were rebuking the abuse of his powers. The swoop bike wobbled, and Arden broke his connection to the other racers, now forced to put his undivided attention on getting the craft back under control.

Left, right. Left, left. Acceleration. Back to center, then all the way to the right. Two more acceleration pads. Twelve hundred kilometers per second. More pangs of worry from Xaria, and this time he could pinpoint what they were: the final stretch of track, a thin set of options, and a monumental risk of death.

The other races were approaching the end of the track, and through them, and Xaria who watched through the view screens, Arden could see the path laid out before him. He fought through the resistance in his body and flooded the minds of the other three racers once more, this time imparting volatile waves of emotion and panic. The results were instantaneous, and disastrous. Two began to stray off course, just narrowly missing obstacles which forced them to slow, but the third racer, the one above and across from where Arden was, completely fell off center. 

The racer’s swoop bike clipped a barrier and cartwheeled, tumbling front over end before entirely breaking free from the track’s gravity and spraying a deadly wash of scrap and debris across the track directly beneath it. Arden felt a sudden cold snap in his mind as his connection to the now deceased racer was abruptly severed. 

The shrapnel blast from above shredded the swoop on the track beside Arden’s, sending gouts of flame jetting out the back of its thrusters. Arden severed his connection to the other riders for fear of losing himself and gunned the accelerator, threading the last obstacles at thirteen hundred kilometers per hour. He jetted across the finish line just half a second ahead of the fourth racer, his only real competition remaining. 

The track was suddenly absent of any obstacles, and Arden allowed the craft to slow; his hands were shaking and his mind reeling. Both hearts were pounding away in his chest, and Arden couldn’t tell if he was suffering through cardiac arrest or if he was just in the throws of an adrenaline high unlike any other he’d ever experienced. 

He didn’t look back down the track. He didn’t look above either. He blocked out all the sights and sounds and focused on the moment, and the words that had come back to him, but Luke Skywalker’s voice was nowhere to be heard anymore. Arden couldn’t even remember when and where that memory had originated now, that was how far down he had banished it.

Bodies flooded onto the track and surrounded Arden’s swoop bike, with arms reaching in from all directions to grasp and pat at his body. He wanted to rip off the helmet and gasp for air, but at the moment all Arden could do was struggle to keep from his body from dissolving into a puddle of shaking muscles. Hands took hold of him, lifted him from the bike, and walked him towards the hanger at the end of the track. Arden caught sight of the timers on the leaderboard along the way.

00:23.40 flashed in bright yellow letters.

He’d finished a whole ten milliseconds ahead of the only other competitor to cross the finish line. 

The Niberius gang members were cheering and hollering as they guided Arden into the shielded hanger, but he could barely hear a thing they were saying. All he could focus on was the absence of Skywalker’s voice in his mind, and the coldness that persisted where he had once sensed the presence of a certain racer on the track.

That individual was gone now, and there wasn’t any unmaking that reality. 

Death had a unique relationship with permanence in that regard.

*

An explosion rocked the district in the dead of night, blasting debris, burning wreckage, scattered scrap parts, and the bodies of two sentry droids crashing into the street. Smoke rolled up into the sky and secondary explosions followed swiftly after. None of the liquor-drunk revelers on the club avenues dared to venture any closer, and in fact many scrambled away in the opposite direction. Chaotic violence wasn’t uncommon on Nar Shaddaa, but explosions like this only came once in a while, and never  _ here _ .

The Kakrash Garage & Repairs shop was obliterated in the blink of an eye. It’s destruction had been swift, but chaos continued on regardless as fuel canisters detonated and under-repair engines were caught up in the blast. Forty minutes later, there wasn’t anything left at the site but blackened rubble and a deep crater where the garage had stood. No body would have survived the inferno intact, quite literally so; not even bones or scraps of DNA would be found, and that was exactly as intended. The brutality was so thorough and efficient that the only thing left to do was to bulldoze, and start anew. But it wouldn’t be the Niberius Swoop Gang who did the rebuilding. They, by all accounts, had perished in the explosion.

Arden watched from afar before turning to leave, his arms still shaking from the nerve fraying race; he’d had enough excitement for a single night, and all he wanted was to collapse, but he still had one stop left to make.

He slipped away as stealthily as he could, climbed aboard a transit car, and rode it all the way to the western edge of the district where a freighter dock was shutting down for the night; one single vessel was still on sight waiting to depart.

Arden trudged towards it, pulling his jacket tight to keep out the cooler air that often circulated near the industrial and shipping districts. Kazoul and a handful of the other Niberius bruisers were huddled around a loading ramp, all of them garbed in the uniforms of local freight laborers. One of Kazoul’s four arms swept outwards, a mighty arm moving to clasp onto and shake Arden’s hand as he drew closer.

“We could see the smoke from here,” Kazoul said, his tone neither excited nor grateful, but instead somber. “A grim thing it is.”

“I know,” Arden replied, offering back a squeeze to the besalisk’s hand before pocketing his fingers to keep them warm. “And I’m sorry it had to go down like that.” 

“It is what it is, and it isn’t over. We’ll be back, you said it yourself.”

“You will, yes.” Arden eyed the other gang members, most of whom were still passing along their belongings to be loaded onto the ship. “And when you’re back, it’ll be a different place, ready for people who mean well, like you.” 

A deep rumble bubbled up in Kazoul’s chest before spilling out. “I will hold you to that, Jedi.”

“Still... not a Jedi,” Arden answered, wincing slightly as he spoke the words. His mind flashed back to the cold emptiness that he’d felt in the wake of the racer’s death. He’d killed before, certainly, but in every instance it had made sense, it had been easy, and it had been necessary. But not this time. “Look, Kazoul...”

The besalisk folded two arms and set his gaze firmly on the zabrak. 

“I know you don’t owe me anything, not after this, but I need to ask a favor.”

Kazoul sucked in a breath through his nostrils, turned, and shuffled off to sit down on a nearby curb; Arden followed, but stopped just in front of the man. 

“I don’t know where you’re going, but I need you to make a detour before you settle down, and it is urgent. There’s someone that I need to get a message to but I can’t risk sending it myself. If anyone here finds out what I’m doing it won’t end well, and everything done so far could be for nothing.”

“Well? What’s the message?”

Arden withdrew a hand from his pocket, removed a small device from his belt, and offered it over; a data crystal. “I need you to get this to some in the New Republic: Kyle Katarn.” 

Kazoul reached out to accept the crystal, but kept his focus squarely fixed on Arden. “Who is he, and why?”

“He’s someone I trust, and that has to be enough. He’ll know what to do when he gets the message. You can find him on Kuat; he’s handling work for Skywalker’s Jedi.” Arden offered out his hand once more and Kazoul reached to shake it. “And thank you, Kazoul; I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

The four armed alien slowly rose to his feet with a groan and returned a nod. 

“Listen, lad, it was coming to this one way or another. Better the bad news from a friend than an enemy; if it hadn’t been you, we’d probably not be alive. We owe  _ you _ . We’ve left Idikien’s swoop bike in the hanger lockup at the track, and we left word that a zabrak named Chasik would be coming to pick it up.” Kazoul’s features twisted into a mischievous grin. “You look a lot like him, as it happens.”

“Not a chance, Kazoul; I’m not taking the swoop bike.”

“Yes you are; we sure as hell can’t bring it with us, and someone ought to have it. Sell it for scrap if it makes you feel better, but don’t let it go to waste. The winnings are more than enough to keep us going.” Kazoul reached out and patted Arden’s shoulder before shambling towards the other gang members; Arden followed alongside once more.

“Where will you all go? How can I reach you after things settle down?”

“No need to reach us,” Kazoul answered. “We’ll be watching. As for where we go... a vacation  _ does _ sound nice. Ryloth has some wonderful stretches of flatland for devils who have a need for thrills,” he mused with a chuckle, “-and that’s definitely us.”

“Ready to go, boss,” one of the gang members shouted out from the tightly huddled crowd waiting by the freighter’s entrance. A second rider emerged from the crowd and began to approach Kazoul and Arden.

Kazoul waved his acknowledgement of the shout and then leaned in towards Arden. 

“We’ll make do, lad. And you... you had best play nice. Jedi or not, we both know what happens when people here pick fights: it always brings trouble.”

Arden spread a wide grin. “Someone told me recently that Jedi trouble is the worst kind; I’ll make some noise on your behalf,” Arden said. 

He stepped back as Kazoul joined the others, and the Niberius Swoop Gang began filing into the freighter. All except one. The alien who now approached Arden had orange-red skin stretched across his face, and a distinct set of recently placed stitches running the length of a gash in his skull. 

“Idikien,” Arden said as he offered out an arm. 

The racer reached forward and shook firmly. “I had the pleasure of watching,” Idikien said in broken basic, his accent only  _ just _ discernible enough for Arden to understand.

“It was certainly no where close to what you can do, Idikien; I think it’s safe to say I have no interest in repeat performances. Onderon was one thing... but official circuit heats are another,” he mused. Idikien spread a mischievous grin that broke wide when a snicker crawled its way up and out through his mouth.

“Bks’ah is dead; fast racer, best of his gang.” 

Arden's expression faltered. “I know; do they understand what happened yet?”

Idikien’s scrutiny was obvious, but Arden feigned any awareness of what suspicions the racer might have.

“Mistakes happen on circuit often; bad luck.”

“In my experience,” Arden replied, once again offering out his hand, “there’s no such thing as luck.” 

Idikien reached out and shook the zabrak’s hand one last time, and then turned to rejoin the gang members filing onto the ship.

The airlock was sealed behind them, and a few moments later the freighter began to ease up and out of its berth - ascending into the night sky. Then, it was out of sight.

There ought to have been a sense of relief that washed over Arden, but the sudden absence of Kazoul and his gang left only a cold and hollow sensation; Arden was close to being alone now. The only thing keeping him company was a lingering presence, an echo that he could sense even from far away; Xaria was still thinking of him.

Arden raised a hand and rubbed his forehead, massaging away the beginnings of a headache. His body was sore, his muscles and nerves were fatigued from the strain of the race, and most of all, a feeling of numbness had crept in. It wasn’t a physical sensation but rather one pertaining to the spirit, the soul, and his seemingly shallow connection to the Force. 

His body had nearly refused him outright when he sought to draw upon the Force during the race, and that was something he had never felt before. It raised more questions than Arden wanted to contemplate at this late hour but, unfortunately, Arden had nothing but an abundance of time and solitude with which to reflect. It was going to take him at least an hour or more to return to his apartment where he knew a certain twi’lek was waiting for him.

*

Arden paused outside the door to his apartment, freezing in place so he could acknowledge the emotions churning in his gut. He was fearful; he was grappling with regret; he was suffering crippling doubts; but worse of all, he could feel the bristles of anger welling up inside. It was a self directed anger, a condemnation for allowing himself to take this path in the first place. He closed his eyes and stepped backwards, stopping only when he felt the railing behind him. There was a time soon to come when he would wake up, and he would be the person he hated most, but only if he continued on like he had.

He needed a moment. He needed  _ much longer _ than just a moment, but it was all he had.

Arden drew in deliberately shallow, slow breaths, providing himself the opportunity to feel those emotions in their entirety; he couldn’t dismiss them outright, nor could he pretend they weren’t valid or real. Each one needed to be processed, and then be resolved in their entirety. Ideally that was something which would happen with deeper reflection, and not just a brief moment on the walkway, but a moment would have to be enough. 

Arden focused his mind on the imagined face of the dead racer in his last moments; he breathed in the spark of fear felt upon the moment of collision, and then the numbing, total absence of sensation upon the racer’s death. 

It had been swift, painless, and absolute; that was some comfort at least, but not for Arden. His mind’s eye shifted outwards and he reached through the Force to find the racer’s family and crew. There was sorrow there, but also joy; at least the racer’s companions were able to see celebrate the man’s life; Arden, on the other hand, knew nothing of him. Only how he died. 

In that regard, Arden was intimately familiar with that racer in ways that no one else in the universe could ever be. At some point he’d need to pay his respects; it was only right. 

Arden allowed himself to take on the blame and the guilt, permitting himself that pain of responsibility for the racer’s death, and then, with a deep breath, he set the man’s face aside and reopened his eyes. Arden couldn’t change what had been done, but he certainly would be mindful of it as he pushed onwards; there would be a reckoning, one he brought about himself, but it wasn’t meant for now. 

Arden had a task to fulfill, and the choice of how to approach it was entirely up to him.

This was his choice: no more unnecessary deaths, not like the racer’s. 

Arden stepped forward and swiped the wall panel with his fob; the door to his apartment slid open. None of the light inside were on but Arden could still make out a shape laying across his bed; it didn’t take any deep investigation to discern that it was Xaria. How she’d gained entry was a not-so-challenging mystery; she had her ways. The twi’lek’s knees were bent and her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. She was still fully clothed, but in a different attire than what Arden had seen her in earlier. The door shut behind him, dimming the sound of rustling wind and traffic from outside; it also prompted Xaria to prop herself up on both elbows and stare down the hallway to where Arden had entered.

She hadn’t been sleeping; she’d simply been waiting.

Arden shrugged off his jacket and draped it across the back of a chair. Each set of slow steps he took was paired with the discarding of one piece of his attire, slimming him down as he drew closer. Arden’s equipment belt was tossed onto the table, his boots were kicked off and left in the center of the hall, the digital wristband he wore was discarded and dropped to the floor, and then the last few steps were spent unbuckling the fly of his pants, though he didn’t dare to pull them down. 

Xaria rose from the bed as Arden neared, a pensive expression clinging to her features; there was that worry he had felt from her before. She didn’t voice it out loud; she didn’t intimate in any form or fashion that concern had been keeping her on edge since they’d parted ways, since she’d uncovered his plan. Arden silently thanked her for leaving it unspoken; he didn’t want to speak, not of that, not just yet. He reached out with a large hand and took hold of her neck, eagerly pulling her in and pressing a firm, deep kiss to her mouth. A shudder tore through her body at the contact, and a flash of stomach churning hunger gnawed at her. She kissed him desperately, and he matched the urgency with a frenzy of his own. Hands groped and grasped, each one tugging the other closer, prowling in circles as they sought after the inevitable passion.

Both of her hands sank urgently to the hem of his shirt. 

She gripped at the fabric and pulled upwards, her knuckles grazing his bare abdomen in the process as she lifted the shirt up, and then over his head, but she didn’t remove it completely. Their kiss had broken when the cloth came up over Arden’s head and Xaria held it there in place, masking his face from sight. She contemplated the sight for only a moment and then leaned in and to press a kiss through the cloth, their lips locked on opposite sides of the sweat stained shirt. It was a strange warmth and a sour taste, but one that was like fuel being poured onto a fire for them both; they both relished the chaos of the contact, and the death of his sight in the moment only heightened the other sensations for Arden.

One hand held the shirt in place, but Xaria lowered the other and traced ghostly shapes into the muscles and skin of Arden’s chest with her fingers while allowing her lips to distract his mouth. Arden’s twin hearts began to thunder, matching the furious rush he’d felt as the race began. Xaria guided Arden with gentle nudges and pulls, turning and then walking him backwards to the edge of the mattress; she pushed at his chest with both hands. 

The free fall was sudden but not unexpected. Arden collapsed onto the bedding, and Xaria was on top of him not even a second after, kicking off her boots in the process. She crawled across bed, prowling over his form much like he had done the night prior; Arden scooted up further as she bent down and pressed her lips to his chest. She kissed her way across every inch of the tattoos covered expanse of his upper body, hands exploring the muscular build and drawing lines along his sweat dampened skin in the process. The zabrak sucked in a breath and tipped his head back, the shirt still depriving him of sight in the darkened room. Xaria’s lips continued to drag across his skin, leaving a trail of wet affection behind, kissing all the way to his throat where her tongue then slipped out. She attentively worked her way up the front, and then to the underside of his jaw, tasting the sweat and stench of longing which clung to his body like cologne. 

Taking hold of the shirt collar still wrapped around his neck, she pulled upwards and exposed his mouth, but left his nose and eyes still covered. She looked down upon him, taking a rarely afforded moment to admire the stern, angular shape of his jaw and chin, and the hard edged crest of his lips which were hanging partly open. Just inside, a near pristine row of teeth sat upon his lower jaw, the plateau broken only by the set of sharp tipped canines which rose above the rest of his teeth. His tongue lay flat, a broad, flat tool that she’d already come to adore; she yearned for the muscle to plunge into her once more, and hungrily leapt forwards. She pressed a kiss to his mouth, not wanting to simply watch on for even a moment longer.

It was exactly the contact that Arden had become desperate for.

Xaria’s lips brushed aggressively against his own, pressing kisses here and there, laced with nips and tugs and bites that stung. The zabrak’s hands rose to take hold of her body, but Xaria grasped at his wrists and pinned them high above his head, stretching his arms so that the muscles in both limbs tightened. She left one hand to police his wrists, not that he fought her over it, and with her other hand traced her way from his wrist to his upper arm and shoulder. It was a crime to hide them away beneath jackets like he did.

She brought her fingers down through his arm pit, fingers massaging into the hair before brushing across his chest once more, massaging deep into the skin as she kissed and teased. 

“You stink of the track,” she moaned just before taking hold of his lower lip between her teeth. She bit down hard enough to draw blood but didn’t let go this time, instead tugging his lip back before releasing her grip. She hastily swept forwards as he winced, planting another firm kiss to his mouth before he could massage at the wound with his tongue; they both savored the taste of iron and spit. 

Another long moment passed as they drake in each other’s passion, both of them desperate for the heat of their connection. But her lips abruptly broke from his once more, and Arden’s chin tipped up to give chase, hoping to recapture her lips for a longer kiss, but she was just far enough out of his reach. 

“You stink of last night, too,” she mused, head bowing once Arden collapsed to the bed. She pressed her lips to his chest once again, this time following the curve of his clavicle and then up past his shoulder. She opened her mouth and grazed her teeth against his tricep, allowing a shiver to break through his body before she ran her tongue across the hairy nook just beneath it. 

Xaria breathed in deep, eyes closing as she committed the zabrak’s scent to memory and then ran her tongue across his pit once more, this time at a tantalizingly slow and deliberate pace. 

Arden tipped his head to the side and broke one wrist free of her grasp. He lowered the hand and took firm hold of the back of her neck, guiding her close for another deep, passionate kiss. His lips parted and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, offering the taste of blood and then the urgently desired sweep of his thick tongue across the inside of her mouth. Xaria planted a hand against his chest for support and finally let go of his other wrist abandoning the prospect of keeping him pinned and now moving to guide his touch down to her side. 

Arden’s fingers massaged the flesh and muscle where they were deposited, attending to the subtle features of her body; his digits trailed along where every dip, bend, bone, and muscle swept in and out of one another, a prairie landscape full of gentle slopes which were carpeted by every texture ever known.

Arden then slipped the hand beneath her shirt and pulled it upwards, removing it hastily and carelessly so that when she sank low again, it was her bare skin which pressed down upon him. His fingers worked to break loose her bra and cast that across the room too, leaving her top bare. The kinetic spark between their bodies ignited with renewed contact, spurring on a frenzy of passion. Xaria brought her hips low, grinding downwards as Arden hitched up off the bed to meet her motions; their abdomens collided, and the brush of Arden’s coarse skin sent electric ripples across the nerves in Xaria’s core. Their lips grappled all the while, a struggle for dominance as hands groped and squeezed, each of them pulling the other closer, unable to sate their burning desire.

Xaria tugged free the shirt masking half of Arden’s face at long last, discarding the torment in favor of taking the whole of him for herself. She threw the clothing aside before shoving one side of Arden’s face into the bedding with her hand; her tongue was swift to follow up, running a long, hungry path from the edge of his jaw up to his temple, and her hips simultaneously pressed down against his body. She ground against the noticeable bulge just beneath his pants, the one article left that neither of them had yet to discard. Her back arched, her head turned upwards, and she planted both hands flat upon his chest while her hips rolled back and forth against him. She panted, tongue falling flat across her teeth as the heat spiked to the point of lightheadedness.

Arden felt it too; his skin was alight with the kinetic spark they’d lit, and he bucked upwards into each roll of her hips. Both hands grasped at her waist, pulling her down as huffs and grunts escaped his mouth. His own back arched, chest and abdomen puffing out as his knees bent to better support their motions. But none of this was close enough. 

They both wanted more; they needed it.

Arden thrust a hand up to grasp at her throat and neck, keeping her body upright as he started to scoot down to the edge of the bed and rise; Xaria’s legs wrapped around him, locking tight to support herself as the zabrak stood. They were eye to eye now, nose to nose, and lip locked with desperate wanting that neither could break free of. Arden’s feet began to move, shuffling through the minefield of scrap and trash and discarded clothing on his way to the washroom. He pressed Xaria up against the wall just beside the door, forcing out a sharp breath from her lungs, but his lips didn’t give her any time to take in a fresh lungful of air. 

One of Xaria’s hands broke free from around his neck and blindly slapped at the wall, seeking out the panel which she found only after a few sloppy, failed attempts. A soft wush echoed in the apartment as the door opened and Arden pulled her away from the wall and entered. 

The washroom was cramped, with only just enough room for a single occupant to stand in the center. A refresher was parked in the corner beside the door, a wash basin along the same wall on the other side of the chamber, and dead center between the two was the shower stall. Arden reached out to yank open the door and then pressed Xaria’s back up against the frame as he groped about for the lever. The pipes screeched and then water streamed down from the ceiling above; it wasn’t the best pressure, but it was warm. No, it was hot.

Arden stepped into the downpour, careless of the fact that both of them were still half dressed. The water instantly soaked their bodies, and Xaria tipped her head back to allow the stream to fall upon her face, both lekku hanging freely behind her. Arden buried his lips into her exposed neck, teeth grazing against her skin. 

Her legs loosened after a moment and the implication was clear; her bare feet hit the floor not even a second later. The both of them scrambled to pull off their pants and throw them to the ground, not even bothering to toss them out of the stall. Xaria stepped forward, shoving Arden back against the wall of the shower stall with both hands before reveling in the presence of his thick cock pressed tightly between their bodies. They wrestled back and forth, hands grappling for control of the other; their heads turned and tipped in a ballet of arrangement, and their teeth nipped and mouths sucked, savoring each other’s taste. Arden’s hands finally sank low, grasping at her rear and heaving her up into his lap once again; her legs wrapped around his waist and he stepped forward, shoving her up against the back half of the shower. She groaned as his girth was shoved up against her, eyes rolling up before shutting.

The zabrak lowered a hand and grasped at his cock, massaging it with a firm grip as he stepped back an inch, and then guided himself forwards. He pressed the head into her folds, spreading apart her inner labia before pushing in. He stepped closer, arms carefully lowering her onto his cock. Her mouth opened silently, head tipping once again as a soft moan escaped; Arden leaned in to press another lazy, open mouthed kiss upon her; their teeth clinked gently, and then Arden’s tongue slipped out to sweep across the inside of her mouth once again. She melted into the touch and sensation, clenching her muscles and gripping tightly around his cock. A groan escaped from the zabrak, and his eyes drew open. Their foreheads tipped together and touched, their focus upon each other intensely magnetic as concentrated breaths broke from their mouths. This was a slow moment, one of deeply passionate awareness of each other, and it was not lost upon neither of them.

Arden eased his hips back and then pushed in, halting only when he felt the wet slap of his groin and thighs pressing up against her own. Water continued to pour down upon them as he repeated the motion, falling into a rhythm that the twi’lek matched, grinding against each of his thrusts. Arden hunched forward, burying his lips into the crook of her neck and forcing her head aside; he could feel in his lips her pulse racing beneath the skin of her neck. 

One of his arms shifted from her ass and slipped behind her back, inching up vertically, strategically positioned between the wall and her body so that her lekku weren’t pinched or pinned in a painful manner. His fingers grasped at the base of her neck and the dangling tendrils of nerves hung along either side of his arm, both of them swollen from the stimulation of rising passion.

Xaria pulled him closer, fingers digging in at his shoulders so that her nails broke skin. He obeyed her command, burying himself into her once again and pressing his body so tightly up against her that not even the water could drip between them. His mouth didn’t stop working even for a moment, lavishing praise and affection upon her with his lips and tongue and teeth, leaving long marks where his sharp canines had dug in and grazed. Their hips continued to buck and thrust, the wet slaps of flesh and muscle growing louder and faster, matched in pitch and volume only by the groans and whines that broke from them both. 

Xaria’s body shuddered with each thrust, and Arden’s experienced whole body shivers with each scratch or puncture of her nails, or the tight grip of her fingers as she clung tightly to his form. He bent a knee slightly to better support his position, thrusting harder and harder as they both fell into the heat of the moment. Arden’s head rose again, his lips hunting for her mouth, and the two sealed their passion with another lust laden kiss, the taste and comfort a thing of unparalleled bliss.

The apartment outside the washroom was still and silent by contrast, with discarded clothing and scrap parts laying across every surface. The ambience of passing cars only partly shadowed the whines and moans which eventually crescendoed into cries of nerve tingling release. With twin hearts that permitted the zabrak to push harder and for longer, the twi’lek’s stentorian cries broke loud and then persisted as she was pushed to the point of overstimulation by the time Arden finally reached his own peak. Hot, white cum dripped from between them, pooling in the basin of the stall before vanishing down the drain. Quakes rippled through their bodies, but neither of them separated. 

Heads fell into necks and against shoulders, and labored breathing brushed onto their water soaked skin; the release left them both weak in the knees. Their muscles were numb, their minds reeling, and their bodies more filthy than ever, but it was the most relaxed that either of them had felt in ages. The ugly mess of their cum stained both sets of legs, only partly washed away by the flow of water running down the expanse of their bodies.

They lingered up against the wall for a long time, basking in the heat of the water and the comfort of each other’s body. No words were spoken between them, only small whimpers and sighs that carried more meaning than words could articulate. After a long moment though, Arden brushed his lips against her chin and worked his way to her mouth once more, leaving a full kiss that could have lasted forever. It was heavy and deep, but without the urgent fury that had possessed them both before. Heads tilted and lips massaged one another, the kiss persisting as Xaria slowly dismounted and set her bare feet to the floor of the stall. 

Even then, she didn’t try to slip away from him; she stood in place, wrapped up in the zabrak’s arms, allowing him to explore her body and massage her breasts. She savored the close contact, and the solitude afforded to them here in the apartment. Arden kept a hand at her breasts, cupping the mounds one at a time in a single hand while his fingers massaged deep into the tissue; his other hand stroked down the lekku hanging along her back; his grip was gentle, but deliberate, discernibly unwilling to let go or cease. He worked his way from the base of one atop her scalp all the way down to its tip, coaxing out a body shaking tremor of pleasure as he stimulated the nerves bound within the tendril. Lightheadedness washed over Xaria in a flash and her knees started to buckle. Arden’s hands finally broke away from their endeavor and moved to guide her body; he turned her to face the wall and bowed her forwards, arms folded against the wall for her head to rest upon. He pressed his groin into her backside, not thrusting into her, but simply rooting himself as a brace for the exhausted twi’lek. Arden trailed his hand down the sides of her body, massaging into her muscles, covering everything from her shoulders and neck down to the cheeks of her ass pressed against his thighs.

His hands slipped between her thighs, too, fingers rubbing gently into her folds, teasing the sensitive flesh and nerves, delivering a flood of stimulation which kept drawing out soft whimpers, each one being moaned into the flesh of her arms which muffled the sound.

He took a long moment, and the luxury of their current position, to admire the straightness of her spine, eyes tracking how each ridge and notch could be seen and counted, and the way her crimson skin was bound tightly around the well toned muscles spreading out to either side. Both of the twi’lek’s lekku had been let to hang down past her shoulders, leaving her back bare; it was a sight that Arden hadn’t enjoyed fully until now. Every inch of her body was a divine landscape, there was no doubt about that, and his hands brushed across it like he was handling an ancient text, gentle not for fear of breaking it, but out of reverence for its immense beauty. 

A long, deep sigh escaped from his mouth and he bent forwards to press a kiss to the middle of her back. “I adore you,” he cooed, his lips brushing across her skin. A soft rumble of approval broke across her lips and Arden practically could hear the tired smile breaking onto her features.

He reached for the wash cloth hanging nearby, bathed it in soap, and then pressed it to her bare skin. He took his time washing her body while she hung forward, attending to every last inch which he massaged and explored while she still remained pliable under his control. In truth, she didn’t want him to stop, not ever. He learned every last mark, blemish, and scar, committing them to memory as he handled her body with reverence and care. She shuddered as his fingers worked away, content to hang there and feel the heat of the water, and the firmness of his ministrations. The zabrak’s hands were coarse, like an extra fine grit of sandpaper, and each brush of his fingers could be felt with complete and total awareness; it was a strange, rough comfort, one she’d not known before, but she’d absolutely come to crave it. 

Xaria kept her eyes closed, back arched with her ass perked up and pinching his still half-erect cock while he massaged and soaped down her body. But through that all her mind was racing; she was tracking the motion of his hands and silently willing him to probe deeper, even desiring him to push her forwards and insert himself again. She would revel in that, but he didn’t make any such move; she was left to the mere thought of it, and her mind drifted back to the moments before. The zabrak’s girth inside of her had brought a throbbing pressure, a heat which radiated outwards as her muscles clenched and pulled; it was a pressure she was well accustomed to, but had never enjoyed so thoroughly. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that the connection they’d built amplified the sensations. 

She let out a soft moan as his hands worked down towards her ass yet again, touching across still sore muscles. She let her mind drift down to her groin; Xaria still felt the warmth of his cum inside, the seed which had spilled out in such volume that it poured down her inner thighs. She yearned for it to linger there or even be taken deeper, for her to savor the warmth for as long as could be afforded. 

She wanted him to stay forever, too; that could no longer be denied. It had been all but two days and already she was craving more of what she’d only just begun to have. Jedi trouble was the worst sort, and yet all she’d endured was coarse bliss that left bruises and sore muscles and an intoxicating warmth that swelled within her. Worse than the feeling, it was the  _ thought _ of him; he’d clawed his way into her mind and carved out a home for himself, even when he was far away. It wasn’t the way he kissed, or the way his fingers wrapped perfectly around the back of her neck, or the taste of his skin or the smell of his sweat, or the sound of his voice when he woke or the way that he stared down into her eyes, it was something deeper that was so damn alluring. Enthralling, even. It drove her to the point of frustration. 

And yet she could feel a darkness in him that she didn’t yet understand.

By the time Arden was done, the lightheadedness had faded, but the exhausted aches in her muscles persisted. She stood and turned, leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth, ran one hand down the length of his arm, and then pulled the wash cloth from his grip. Perhaps the darkness would take time to coax out of him, but in the meanwhile, his body was hers to explore without limit.

She wrung the water out of the cloth, raised it up and pressed it to his neck, brushing against his skin as she began her own turn learning the shape of his body. After a moment she let the cloth drop to the floor though and coated her own hands with soap instead. Arden stood upright as she attended to him, his head tipping back with his chin pointed up towards the ceiling. Xaria delivered long, deep kisses to his skin before rubbing him down, her soapy fingers and nails brushing away the stink and grime of the zabrak’s days-long labor. She worked from his neck and shoulders all the way down, sinking onto her knees at last to care for the lower half of his body.

Her hands ran along his back and then gripped at his ass cheeks, squeezing tight as she leaned forward and pressed a deep kiss to his bare abdomen. Then she inched lower, lips brushing across the trimmed stubble of pubic hair before one hand shifted to grasp at his length and pull it aside. Even with the water still pouring down upon her face she leaned in and ran her tongue along the length of his cock, from base to head, mindful to tease the still tender nerves with her teeth and lips. His cock twitched and throbbed in response. Arden lowered a single hand to the back of her scalp, carefully positioned between the bases of her lekk. A low, utterly contented groan tumbled from his lips as she began to stroke at his length, coaxing out a last, thick droplet of cum which spilled forth and dripped down the underside. She lapped it up with her tongue and then pressed one last kiss to his groin, this time upon his sack. 

Arden reached out with his free hand , bracing himself against the wall as both eyes shut tight, his mind reeling from the sensations as she toyed with him. Another handful of soap was dispensed and she rubbed her hands together before massaging at the sack which hung below his cock; she coated it with sudsy soap that tingled and nearly stung, leaving the zabrak panting with both knees bent. Her hands ran down the last stretch of his legs, and finally Arden lowered a hand to her chin and guided the twi’lek back up to her feet. 

His lips found her mouth once more and he gently pressed her up against the wall, arms wrapping tightly around her form after shutting off the water. The two lingered in the stall until they were mostly dry, their lips locked and their hands passionately exploring each other’s bodies. The tension had wholly melted from their muscles, but a simmering passion remained. It was only when the water had stopped freely dripping from their bodies that they stepped from the stall, dried themselves off, and then prowled back to the bed. The both dove beneath the soft folds of the sheets without a word.

Arden wrapped the twi’lek up in his thick, muscular arms, burying her beneath both the sheets and the warmth of his body. In turn, she curled her arms around the timber of his frame, knees drawn up into the fetal position as she basked in the heat still coming off of his body. With the last of his energy spent, Arden bowed his head and buried his lips into the crook of her neck, his eyes finally lidding as the exhaustion dragged him towards sleep.

Wrapped up in the arms of the red skinned twi’lek, Arden was finding a limitless well of strength to draw from, and learning that its power was somehow even stronger than the Force.


	4. Caught in the Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden and Xaria navigate the waters around Gardula in the wake of the Niberius Swoop Gang job, and Arden charts a dangerous path forwards.

####  **[Chapter IV: Caught in the Wake]**

######  _ Nar Shaddaa _

Arden’s swoop bike slammed into a barrier. The tangled, flaming husk of the chassis vaulted over the top, tumbling end over end and scattering a deadly wave of scrap and molten fragments across the track. The explosive destruction of the bike left behind a layer of jagged metal shards like a field of razor spikes, and Arden’s mangled body sailed through the air before crashing down into the midst of it.

The sudden impact and grisly death jolted Arden from sleep. His twin hearts were pounding within his chest and his skin was damp with sweat, but there wasn’t any actual evidence of a crash within his apartment. He certainly wasn’t yet dead, either. Arden sat upright, thrust the covers off, and then swung out his legs to sit on the edge of the mattress. Xaria woke at the sudden disruption, but feigned sleep to afford him at least a moment to get his breathing under control.

He raised both hands and ran them across the expanse of his scalp, carefully threading both sets of fingers between the spiked horns adorning his skull; he’d never had nightmares like that before, and the prospect of enduring more was more concerning than what had actually woken him up.

Xaria pressed her hands to Arden’s back and then brought them around to his abdomen and chest - cementing a firm hold. He closed his eyes and exhaled, soaking in the comfort of the touch as she pressed her lips to his shoulder. This wasn’t a solution to the nightmare by any means, but it was a reprieve, and one that brought about a sense of calm.

“Do you want to tell me,” she asked in a whisper, fingers slowly tracing back and forth along his chest. Sleep still clung to her like an early morning fog just above the ground, and the effort she made in spite of that wasn’t lost on Arden. 

He opened his eyes and reached back to rest a hand at the side of her face, offering his gratitude in silence. The ceiling vents opened and cool air was flushed into the apartment, bringing further relief from the spike of heat that had boiled up within Arden as he’d been abruptly woken.

Xaria pulled at his chest and layed back down, resting Arden’s cheek upon her abdomen; both of his knees were still bent and his legs hanging off the bed, and he kept his face turned down towards the foot of the bed. Arden wanted to close his eyes again, but he couldn't yet bring himself to the idea of tempting sleep once again. Xaria’s hands drifted down to his head and her fingers traced their way across his scalp, curving around the spiked horns and even dipping down as far as his cheek and jaw.

“There’s a lot you don’t say,” Xaria said after a few moments in the cool silence. “I’ve thought that it was because of the not-a-Jedi thing, that you just wanted to vanish and start over... but you keep proving to be full of surprises.”

Arden shifted the position of his head so that there was less of a chance that any of his horns might press into her skin. 

“There is a lot; and with you, too,” he answered. The reply drew a lazy grin from Xaria that went unseen.

“Not wrong. We’re both secret keepers, it seems; then again, everyone here is.” Xaria’s fingers followed the edge of his jaw as she spoke. “And yet  _ we’re _ still side by side and not ripping each other’s throats out, so maybe it’s not a terrible thing.” 

Arden laid an arm across her leg, his own fingers now settling in to trace imaginary shapes into the skin of her inner thigh. “There’s still time to start a fight, you know.” The flush of heat had mostly faded from his body by now, and the coolness had brought with it a strange and easy comfort. “Tell me about the race.”

Xaria scoffed, her brows knitting in surprise at the question. “Tell  _ you _ about the race? Shouldn’t I be asking you about it?”

“Tell me how you knew.”

Xaria pulled at Arden’s jaw, rolling him over so that he was looking up towards her with his head still laying upon her abdomen.

Xaria took her time and carefully chose her words before replying. 

“It was something about the way you left. A gut feeling.  _ And _ because I knew that it wasn’t Idikien on the bike.”

Arden’s brows lofted. 

“Bvash’j --the quarren you saw at the safehouse-- he ordered a hit on Idikien and I was there when it happened. The Niberius racers were trying to hide how bad the injuries were, but I saw it first hand and I knew he wouldn’t be racing ever again. But then,  _ somehow _ , he showed up again for the race...” Arden nodded along, his gaze sweeping across her face as he drank in her features and measured each shift in her expression. “ _ And _ ... I know that ass of yours well enough now to spot it - even if it’s in a tracksuit.”

Arden snorted, and a grin spread wide across his face.

“What I  _ don’t _ understand,” Xaria continued, “is how and why you’d replace their rider and then enter yourself into a swoop race.”

“I needed to be sure they won,” Arden answered simply. “None of their other racers could step up for it, so it had to be me.”

“But how did you get in? The Niberius Swoop Gang isn’t friendly to outsiders.”

Arden’s gaze was drawn to the curve of her lips and the subtle arch in one brow that illustrated her genuine curiosity. She wasn’t digging into him, not for information  _ or _ for ways to manipulate him; her intrigue was genuine. 

“Why is Gardula pushing for Bvash’j’s interests,” Arden said, changing the subject abruptly. “I get the feeling that they’re rivals, and yet she’s done him a favor by hiring me.” 

Xaria’s surprise was immediately obvious. “You’re talking about the Niberius gang still?” 

Arden nodded his silent affirmation, but Xaria didn’t immediately answer. She was weighing her own answer and Arden could sense her reluctance, even if she masked it well from any outward display. He  _ could _ reach out through the Force, or at least try to, and give her the subtle push that was needed. 

It wasn’t a matter of could or couldn’t though. In a manner that surprised even him, Arden had simply decided that he  _ would not _ manipulate her in such a way.

Xaria had kept her own gaze focused upon the zabrak as she grappled with the question he’d posed; he could sense the internal debate as to whether or not she  _ should _ tell the truth of what she knew. She’d seen much of Arden that Gardula and the others wouldn’t be able to understand, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy, even if  _ she _ herself was wholly willing to embrace him. Xaria longed to know what was running through his mind, what connections he was drawing and what suspicions he was cobbling together; she wished he were an open book that she could read so that the decision would be easy.

“I knew Kazoul,” Arden said, breaking her concentration and prompting a look of disbelief to emerge upon the twi’lek’s face. He could sense that longing to know more, and what better way to earn trust from her than to speak truth. “I knew him from Onderon; my master and I were there with them.” 

Xaria’s fingers stopped their tracing motions and her expression hardened. “You knew them?”

“Yes, and I helped them make it off Nar Shaddaa.” 

Xaria's expression shifted into one more aligned with denial than betrayal. Arden could sense pangs of frustration in her, but not yet anger; he reached for one of her hands and wrapped his fingers around it. 

“They’re gone, and they won’t be an issue for Gardula  _ or _ the quarren anymore.”

“And you let them  _ go _ .  _ Why _ ?” Xaria’s hand tensed in his grip.

“Because I needed them to deliver a message for me elsewhere, and because I need Gardula to trust in me. It was a necessary, strategic gamble, and everyone benefits from it.”

“Gardula will be  _ furious _ when she finds out,” Xaria replied, the surprise and frustration building rapidly into deeper concern. 

“ _ If _ she finds out. It’ll be just like when she found out I’m a not-a-Jedi,” he replied, only slightly prodding her with the tease.

Xaria’s gaze sharpened. “That was different,” she sputtered. 

“How so?”

“You...  _ I _ can know about you and it’s fine because it doesn’t matter to  _ me _ ; you get the work done and I’ve seen that first hand. But with Gardual!? Trying to sabotage her-”

“How did I sabotage her? The Niberius Swoop Gang is gone and Gardula’s associate has what they wanted. I did exactly what I was tasked with. No one  _ has _ to know the specifics about how I handled it, but you asked and I trust you enough to tell you. I used my connection to enter the competition using Idikien’s identity, won the race, and then staged their deaths to get them off world. They’ll not be returning to bother Gardula at any point in her lifetime.” 

Xaria’s expression remained fixed, hardened, and wracked with confusion. 

“Look,” Arden said as he reached up to cup her cheek, “I chose to trust you with who I am and who I’m not, and I’m trusting you with this, too. You and I work well enough together, and keeping things from you won’t make that easy.”

“And what am I supposed to do with  _ that _ ,” Xaria replied, one hand rising to take hold of his wrist and pull it down. “Trust doesn’t exist on Nar Shaddaa; you know this.”

“Tell me that you honestly believe you can’t trust me.”

Xaria was silent for a moment at that, considering both his words, and the very short history they had together so far. 

“There’s more you’re not telling me,” she said after a long moment.

“The droid on the street... My own droid. I painted the Pyke insignia on it and coordinated the intercept. It got me in with you and Gardula, and it got me a stable, well paying job.”

“You faked the involvement of the  _ Pyke _ Snydicate? Arden-”

“And that’s it. For now.” Arden propped himself up onto his knees and peered down at her from above. 

“That’s  _ it _ ? Those are all of your secrets?”

“No, most definitely not. But it’s all the ones you need to know,” he answered. Xaria still bore the look of someone processing complex and conflicting feelings and thoughts. “I do what I have to, Xaria, just like everyone else on Nar Shaddaa. That doesn’t mean I  _ want _ to lie to you; and I know you don’t want me lying either.”

“I’m  _ not _ saying I trust you,” she replied. She didn’t want to admit the truth, a truth she knew couldn’t be rational, a truth made complicated by lust. “But of course I won’t say anything about this. I  _ am _ serious though; you better not pull any shit that screws me over, Arden.” Xaria propped herself up on both elbows, her gaze rising to lock with Arden’s own. “I’m  _ very  _ serious about that. This is the line, and I’ll burn you if you cross it; I won’t lose this job.”

“And I don’t want to take it from you,” Arden said. “I’m here for me, and that’s it, and I know we can work together. Why do you even serve Gardula in the first place?”

Xaria took her time formulating her response before speaking, part of her mind still grappling with what he’d told her. When she did answer him, her gaze drifted off towards the window and avoided him entirely.

“Gardula offered me a place after I had a bad run in; she gave me a chance to pay off debts and settle blood without selling myself to some slaver or running spice for some cartel where I’d get shot dead in the first week.”

“So you traded work for shelter? Seems like it’s paid off well. You’re Gardula’s... what? Number two?”

Xaria scoffed. “Hardly. Call me the executive pawn, if anything. I’m... a messenger. An enforcer. Translator. Acquisition overseer... Whatever she wants and needs. It’s a steady thing, and it’s security for me, at least for now. I don’t care how high up on the food chain I am, so long as I can stay above water.” She slumped back down and raised both hands to run along the length of her lekku, both of which she pulled forth and let hang down her bare chest. “We’re all expendable, though; I know that. So long as I pull our weight, I stay useful.”

Arden leaned forward and laid down beside her, one arm bending and slipping beneath his own head for support; he stared over at her, and she stared up at the ceiling above. 

“How did you get into your situation in the first place? What happened,” he asked, his voice settling into a low, soft tone.

Xaria’s head turned and she peered over at him, briefly meeting his gaze. 

“Ignore the question,” Arden said abruptly. “You don’t need to say it.”

“You already know, don’t you? You can just use your powers to steal thoughts.”

Arden shook his head. “I could, but I haven’t. I won’t.”

Her gaze narrowed, unsure if she believed the words or not. The lingering silence and steady expression on Arden’s face, however, chipped away at her uncertainty. 

“My former employer gave me a task that I  _ thought _ I could handle. Anyone else would have been killed for screwing the whole thing, but he’d always said I reminded him of someone, whatever that means. So instead of putting a hit on me, he threw me out and gave me a year to pay back what I’d lost him with the botched job. No second chances. Gardula offered a fresh start; she bought out my debt.”

“Fresh starts usually mean fresh, not someone holding a debt over your head,” Arden countered.

“At least with Gardula there’s an opportunity to pay it back; if I’d been on my own... you know the sort of work people here get roped into. Slavery, extortion, spice running, and just about every other awful thing you can imagine,” Xaria replied. Her gaze lingered on him now, taking in the sharp, angular shape of his cheekbones and jaw. “I may have traded one awful person for another, but I refuse to throw myself into slavery like other women from Ryloth. I’m close to paying it off in full, too. Just a bit longer and then... then I’d have a chance to make my own way.”

“Will you stay with Gardula after that?”

Xaria considered the question, and then shifted onto her side to face him; both of her lekku tumbled from her chest, and the tendrils pooled onto the bedding between them.

“Why? Are you considering hiring me away from her,  _ not-a-Jedi _ ?”

Arden spread a lopsided grin, showing off the sharp whites of his teeth and the pointed tips of his canines on just one side. Xaria drank in the sight of them and savored the curve of his lips.

“That would depend entirely on whether or not you consider keeping me around.” He inched forwards, snaked one arm around her back, and pulled her closer. “I can think of a few things to keep you occupied once you’ve paid off your debt to Gardula, but I also have my own work to do; I can’t spend  _ all _ my time keeping you busy.”

“And what work is that, hmm? Why’re you asking about Bvash’j’s and Gardula?” Xaria  _ was _ probing now; she wasn’t trying to mask it either.

“You don’t think it’s strange that she’s cleaning up for a competitor,” Arden asked, dodging the question as tactfully as he could.

“Gardula and Bvash’j see eye to eye on a number of issues. Fixing this problem benefited them both; it’s as simple as that.”

“I think there’s more to it. And I’d bet you do too,” Arden replied, the hand at her back now inching up towards her cheek. His thumb drifted back and forth against the edge of her jawline. “I don’t need to steal thoughts to be able to sense that.”

Xaria was deep in the zabrak’s shadow now, with the light from the nearby window catching on Arden’s back and shading both his face and her body in a soft blanket of darkness. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined what it would be like if she wholly gave in to that darkness and allowed him to slip in and take over her mind. She’d already believed that he had, at some point, broken into her mind, and it had been that intrusion which was the source of her persistent thoughts of him, but if he was speaking truthfully... 

Perhaps she was more invested than she’d have liked to admit. That was a startling realization, and it invited concerning thoughts. She’d much rather wonder about the sensation of him in her mind; at least with that, she’d have no control. She wondered if it would be the same warm sensation that came over her when his lips pressed their kisses upon her.

“Am I wrong,” he asked, interrupting the twi’lek’s thoughts.

Xaria opened her eyes, leaned forwards, and pressed a firm kiss to his mouth; the zabrak didn’t pull away or break from the affection, and instead tugged her closer. The heat from his body swallowed her whole and a long, satisfied exhale fell from her lips. She broke from the kiss and buried herself into the crook of his neck, fingers curling against his chest.

“What I know is that there’s going to be a gathering soon,” Xaria answered in a quiet voice. “It’s something big, with the three main financiers of a large collective of syndicates and gangs. No one knows anything about when or where or who, but all the organizations involved are trying to clean house before it happens.” 

Arden wrapped his arms tightly around her body, leaving little space between them. “That makes sense if they want to put on a good show of things; no one wants to see their investments squandered by infighting or complications. I guess that will be the bulk of my work; cleaning house for your boss.” Arden’s mind took off, racing through the implications and the possibilities; his gamble had paid off.

“There are plenty of complications; there always are and always will be. Gardula has been ramping up our activity in all the districts we operate, though; no more skimming off the top, or letting local gangs siphon extort profits in exchange for less trouble. She wants to use brute force to get people in line.”

“Think it has to do with the New Republic?” Arden raised a hand to the back of her neck and massaged deep into the tissue and muscle there. 

“I don’t know.” Xaria exhaled, tipping her head down and pressing her lips into the flesh of his shoulder. “Gardula plays things close to the chest.” 

Arden tipped his chin down to match her gesture, and pressed a kiss into her shoulder; his gaze shifted across the room to where his belt and comlink had been discarded the night before. 

He needed to send an update, sooner rather than later.

“Well, don’t we all,” he whispered back.

*

Xaria left the apartment when morning had fully arrived. There had been the predictably slow, drawn out departure which was stalled time and time again by lustful and lingering wants, but it ended all the same. 

“Safe house, thirteen hundred hours,” she had said before slipping out the door. 

The silence and solitude in the wake of her departure throbbed like an ache in Arden’s muscles, a soreness that could be felt but not quickly assuaged. He dressed himself in a new set of clothing, clipped on his belt, slipped into his jacket, and then pulled out the comlink as he stepped through the door. 

Nar Shaddaa somehow seemed brighter than it had the day before, but the neighbors were just as glum; none offered any greeting, only sneers and scowls if anything at all. Arden brought the comlink up to his mouth, speaking into it as he walked towards the lift.

“K8, initiate power up. Run self-diagnostics, warm up the cabin, and cycle through the transmission logs.”

A blur of garbled droid speak came back over the comlink before fading into silence; Arden clipped the comlink onto his belt and stepped into the lift before closing the door. It sped down towards the street level, slowed to a halt, and then Arden disembarked as the doors opened. 

He plunged himself into the depths of the city, and a half hour later he emerged from through a narrow passageway onto a mid-level docking platform. Only one attendant was present, and they barely paid the zabrak any mind at all. Arden crossed the pad, weaving through the cramped dog pile of small freighters and starships that had all been packed together; his ship was on the far end.

The blue and white colored U-Wing he’d bought years before wasn’t in pristine condition by any means, but it had provided a way of getting from one place to another, and had even started to feel like home; that was enough for him. The side door of the ship was already sliding open as Arden came into view. The same battered KX series droid which had confronted him on the street was hanging out through the opening, one arm wagging back and forth in greeting. Scuffed paint and dimly lit eyes made any greeting seem somewhat tired and lackluster, but the slight tilt of the droid’s head from one side to the other was a sure sign that it had come just about as close to missing the zabrak as was possible. 

Arden offered a pat to K8’s shoulder as he heaved himself into the cabin and palmed the switch to close the door. The inside of the cramped ship was already warm, offering much appreciated shelter from the chilly air on the landing pad outside.

“Give me the update; what’s the latest,” Arden asked as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the small bunk he’d installed on the starboard side of the craft. K8 followed as the zabrak shuffled towards the cockpit and sat down in the pilot’s chair. 

“Self diagnostics indicate substantial power restoration since last repair: maximum capacity now at fifty-four percent of factory specifications. Memory core and neural processor both functioning at sufficient levels; all other systems online and functioning within normal parameters,” the droid recited; its right eye flickered with a fair degree of consistency throughout the report. 

The droid’s power capacity was coming back, but there would always be kinks.

“Good to hear. A bit better after every repair; that’s what we like,” Arden replied as he spared a look over his shoulder towards the droid. “Transmissions?”

“Sixteen new communiques logged in the system.”

“Filter out messages from the civil authorities in the core worlds, and any from the Jedi Order, except the ones from Katarn.”

“Filtering complete. No new transmissions logged.” 

“Figures,” Arden muttered under his breath. He spun the chair around to face the back half of the ship, and the droid standing smack dab in the middle of it. “Alright, let’s get to it then. K8, pull up the networking mesh and show me our findings thus far.”

K8 straightened up, offered the small bob of its head, and then shuffled towards the console controls on the right side of the cockpit, just behind the co-pilot’s chair. The droid keyed the control panel.

A hologram fizzled to life in the open space behind the pilots’ chairs and Arden reached out to swipe through the images. There were images of various figures of different species, blurbs detailing personal information, notes and accounts of transactions and currency trades, and also a detailed inventory of ships and properties owned and made use of by those previously listed. It was messy, but the depth of the information they’d begun cobbling together was impressive.

“The latest information I have suggests that the syndicates here are in alignment under this Tazar Collective,” Arden explained out loud as he swept through the information, organizing it into a neatly assembled diagram. “There’s a host of three financiers reportedly backing the Collective, and they’re going to be gathering somewhere on Nar Shaddaa soon. The money we’ve been tracking tricks down through the syndicates and gangs, and now we have an idea of where the money trail originates.” 

K8 continued to handle the controls off to the side and drew up three new blank profile images which appeared in the midst of the display. Lines blurred to life, establishing a network that linked the relevant data. Once it was set in place, the droid spun around to survey the data.

“Analysis of currency transactions suggest the financing operations are handled through front corporations known to be used by syndicates in this region,” K8 announced. 

The relevant bits of information were brought front and center, detailing a network of companies and operators through which the money flowed into the structure of the Tazar Collective, which itself was composed of various syndicates and gangs. Arden recognized many of the companies, most of which ranged from food suppliers to construction and transportation services.

“I’ve isolated twenty-two organizations likely to be involved in the Collective based on transactional analysis, and also including links to one individual known as Gardula Shindu.” 

The falleen syndicate leader’s face appeared and Arden folded both arms against his chest as he stared up at the face.

“She’s been working with a quarren, one that I’ve now met in pers-”

A picture of Bvash’j appeared in the center of the display. 

“That’s him. Bvash’j. Do we know who he’s connected to,” Arden asked.

K8 cycled through further analysis of the information and then drew up another spread of data. 

“Accessing correctional authority databases.” The droid’s eyes flickered, and then steadied. “Bvash’j has been sighted in the presence of six other individuals on a recurring basis, all of which have confirmed ties to the Kor’shek Reavers.” A half dozen mug shots of various amphibian or aquatic aliens appeared, and new links materialized to connect them all to Bvash’j’s portrait.

“Seems like a quarren enterprise, for sure. Manaan? Dorumaa? Mon Calamari?”

K8’s eyes flickered once again as its power fluctuated. The first sounds to come out weren’t that of galactic basic, but of the more rudimentary droid speak; Arden’s gaze narrowed at the sound of the garbled mechanical noises, but the droid’s vocabulator leveled out a beat later.

“That is correct,” the droid finally articulated. “Kor’shek has origins on Mon Calamari, but has settled its base of operations here on Nar Shaddaa within the last two years.”

Arden scooted forward in the chair and clasped both hands between his knees. 

“The more organizations we can identify, the better. Process all the data you can siphon from the networks here on Nar Shaddaa, and draw links between as many as you can; the more concrete information we have, the easier it will be to nail down who the financiers are. Check the Pyke Syndicate, the Gauvian Death Gang, and any others that have a history of operations on Nar Shaddaa, especially groups that have migrated here over the past few years.” 

Arden eased back in the chair, gaze turning towards three blank financier profiles. 

“Before we can make any move, we need an idea as to who these people are, and where their money is coming from,” he muttered under his breath. “One more thing,” Arden added after a moment of thought. “Pull up any information you have on an individual by the name of Xaria; she has ties to Gardula.”

K8 turned and focused its attention on the search; a few moments passed before an image of the twi’lek appeared in the center of the display. 

“Entity reference located; limited information available,” K8 announced. 

“There’s not all too much here; petty theft, intimidation and assault... that’s it?” 

The droid nodded in response. 

“Alright; wipe it from our logs and disconnect any references to Gardula. I’m heading back out. Keep working at this, K8. We’re going to need a clear picture for this to work,” Arden said as he pushed up from the seat. 

“Of course, master.”

“And bury any updates in the ship’s inventory logs; I’ll check it as often as I can.” 

Arden patted at the droid’s shoulder, snatched up his jacket, and then headed for the side door. 

“Of course, ma-”

“Keep yourself charged, too; if you drop off the map I can’t get back here quickly or often.”

“Of cour-”

“And K8,” Arden paused for a beat and turned back to look at the droid, “-it’s good to see you up and walking still.” The zabrak offered a lopsided smile that showed off the sharp whites of his teeth, and then slipped out through the door. The U-Wing went cold a few moments later as the heaters were turned off and the ship became just another vessel parked away on the long-term storage pad.

Arden vanished into the depths of Nar Shaadaa once again, weaving his way through the labyrinth of avenues and bridges, tunnels and plazas that were all teeming with life.

*

_ “-a bloody and violent end to an otherwise exciting night. Just after the race, all sixty two members of the Niberius Swoop Gang were tragically killed in an explosion within their own garage, security officials are reporting. This happened just after their decisive win at the Zetanew Circuit down on sub level three-twelve, shocking fans of the races all over the world. The destruction was witnessed by dozens on the nearby avenue strip in the district, and an investigation has been opened to determin-” _

Xaria, Arden, two enforcers, Bvash’j, and Gardula were all gathered around the syndicate leader’s desk, though no one spoke. Footage of the explosion looped around again and Gardula eyed it warily. Arden, wishing to broadcast a sense of calm confidence, shuffled aside to seat himself on the nearby couch. 

After a long moment, Gardula leaned back in her chair behind the desk; it wasn’t a look of satisfaction on her face but rather one of contemplation. The holocast continued to play on repeat, but she cut the sound off - leaving a considerable silence hanging in the air.

“So, we can talk final payment now,” Arden said. Even if being the first to speak put heat on him, it would at least get the ball rolling. The eyes of everyone in the room swung towards him, and looks of visible irritation were easy to spot.

“If you think that this was impressive, you’re even dimmer than I was led to believe,” Gardula scoffed as she swept aside the holocast, closing out of the images completely.

“Our agreement wasn’t about me impressing you, it was about getting the job done efficiently. I did my part of the work, and now I expect to get paid,” Arden countered, both hands moving to settle on his knees as he leaned forwards. “Or, are you trying to short change me?”

“Watch it, gizka-shit,” one of the enforcers growled from where they stood by the door. Gardula waved for their silence, and then ordered them out of the room with the flick of her wrist.

“I don’t need some empty-skulled pistol jockey to speak for me,” she chided before turning her ire towards Arden. “And you. You’ll watch your mouth or I’ll have those credits nailed into your bones.” Gardula shoved herself up from the chair and moved towards the window to stare down at the warehouse below.

Xaria took the opportunity upon herself and turned to face Arden. “Gardula keeps to her word; you’ll get your pay.” Xaria crossed both arms against her chest. “Seven hundred and fifty credits was the outstanding balance; it will be in your account by the time you walk out the door. But don’t push it, Arden.”

The zabrak pushed himself up to both feet, swept his hands out to either side, and then spread a boastful, challenging grin towards Xaria. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered.

Bvash’j finally spoke up, ushering out a string of phrases in his own wet language that consisted of harsh, nasally notes and keys which very much belonged back under the sea where the quarren had come from.

Xaria eyed the two with a wary expression, and then translated what the quarren had said; she didn’t seem overly thrilled to be doing so.

“He’s asking how you got explosives inside their hideout.” Her focus, too, settled closely on Arden. She was genuinely curious as to whether he would share the truth, or if there was a lie to be told.

“They refit and repair their swoops in that garage; they also keep fuel for the craft in storage containers in the back. I uncapped the fuel tanks, re-wired some of the engines on swoops under repair, and then connected a small explosive charge near the middle of the garage. All it took was time for one of the riders to show off their latest modifications to a friend at the party, and the whole place blew.”

The muscle in Xaria’s cheek twitched while Arden spoke, but she didn’t make any comment of her own.

Bvash’j replied in the same garbled tongue as before, and Xaria translated once more.

“He wants to know if you saw the race.”

Arden shrugged off the question, his gaze shifting towards the window that Gardula had been staring out of. This question was about Idikien; Xaria must not have been the only one who knew, and given that Bvash’j had been the one to put out the hit, it was a valid line of inquiry. 

“Some of it; not really at the top of my interests, to be honest,” Arden replied with an indifferent tone. “A few of the racers died though, I know that much, but what else is new in the swoop world.” Arden turned his focus towards Gardula. “So, this is it, then? Are we finished, or what’s next for us?”

The office door closed behind the enforcers as they finally exited the room, and Gardula turned her to peer back at Arden over her shoulder. She didn’t say a word, not for a long moment; she was taking the necessary time to tamp down any urge to have him dragged out back and shot. Arden took advantage of the opportunity and strode towards the front of the desk, planting himself between Xaria and Bvash’j; before he could speak though, Gardula replied.

“You are a blunt instrument, not a precision tool, brawler; I hope it was your intent to make that much known, because you’ll never be anything else in my eyes now. That makes your usefulness limited.”

“You wanted them gone, and blowing up a building is a lot less suspicious than shooting dead sixty plus people. You never specified how to do the job, so I did it in the way that worked best. And if you wanted someone who was only somewhat good at everything, you hired the wrong person; I’d rather be the best at the one thing I do,” Arden replied, his focus matching the falleen’s own gaze which had settled squarely upon him.

“Which is violence and destruction.” Gardula’s expression didn’t shift with her reply; there wasn’t any way to gleen her true thoughts based on looks alone. But Arden didn’t need to rely on looks alone - he could sense her indecision. Gardula was walking a thin line between irritation and calculation. She  _ could _ use him, but whether she wanted to or not there hadn’t been any decision made just yet.

“I haven’t been here long,” Arden replied, “but I’ve seen enough to know that something is changing. The cartels usually work real quiet like, and yet there’s been more attacks and more enforcers muscling their way across the districts. And then there’s me... someone you know is good for one thing and one thing only. Whether I shot up the swoop gang or blew them to pieces, you weren’t looking for subtlety.” Arden leaned forward and rested his hands against the edge of the desk. “You have problems that need fixing, and I need work. We don’t need to play games, Gardula; just point me to the next job.”

The falleen’s eyes drifted slightly, her gaze shifting towards Xaria; the twi’lek offered the smallest of shrugs, but it seemed to be enough for Gardula. 

“You can leave now,” the falleen finally replied, but her words, and her gaze, were pointed towards Bvash’j and not Arden. 

The quarren took a moment to weigh the direction, and then rose to his feet, bowed, and turned for the door. Arden could sense a hint of indignation in Bvash’j. Gardula remained silent until the quarren had stepped out of the room and the doors closed behind him. 

“We’re having trouble with a handful of individuals who have the potential to complicate future affairs for us; I want them taken out. The violent and efficient way. The issue is that they’ve holed up in a tower that’s owned and run by a wealthy businessman who hasn’t been all too fond of our operations,” Gardula explained as she finally sat back down.

“The issue is that we can’t get into the building,” Xaria added. “Genjesh was a former associate of ours and he knows our operatives, and how we work.” 

“So you want an outsider?”

“No,” Gardula replied. “I want a persuader. I want you to convince him to go along with our plan, and then to carry it out. Sending in someone to take out the targets in their homes makes it too obvious, too coordinated; we need something less direct. The plan is to set fires in the building, and let the whole thing burn. Their deaths wouldn’t be noticed with a high enough body count.”

Arden could sense the unease churning within Xaria. Even Gardula had some apprehension towards the idea, but it was clear that she’d also assured herself that it was the only option left.

“They haven’t left their homes in weeks,” Xaria explained. “We’ve tried everything from poisoning their food deliveries to packing in explosives; they figure it out every time, which means they’re getting help from the inside.”

“So you want me to set a fire in a super tall skyscraper, killing thousands of people in the process, just to get to a handful of targets who could  _ potentially _ complicate some business deal of yours in the future,” Arden asked for clarification; he eased himself into the chair which Bvash’j had previously occupied. “That’s high profile, and I’d bet there’s a lot of people you’ll piss off in the process.” 

“That’s why we need the building owner on board; if he goes along with it, he gets an insurance payout to cover his losses, but only if he keeps his trap shut,” Gardula explained. “It looks like a tragic accident.”

He paused for a long moment, elbows resting on the arm rests as he rang his hands together - appearing to give the proposed job a great deal of serious consideration. 

“It’s going to cost more than the garage,” he finally added. “A lot more.”

*

“You can’t be serious about taking this on, Arden,” Xaria breathed out as the two strode out into the alleyway and then followed Arden into the busy street just beyond. “The swoop garage was one thing, and even then you deliberately went out of your way to avoid killing.” She reached out to grab his jacket and pulled him to a full stop.

Arden spun on his heel to face her, and she hastened to shove him up against a nearby wall. 

“This is  _ your _ boss,” Arden answered. “It’s your syndicate; why are you against this all of a sudden?”

“Because this isn’t a swoop garage full of people who have it coming. We’re talking about thousands upon thousands of people who have nothing to do with any of this.” Arden could sense both fury and panic swelling inside of her, a torrent of emotions that were spilling out. “We do terrible and horrible things for work, that’s not lost on me, but this is something else. Gardula has been embracing more extreme measures to prepare for this meeting,  _ but a whole tower? _ ”

“So murdering thousands of innocent people to get to a handful of targets is the line in the sand.”

“Don’t mock me,” she hissed, one hand rising to slap against his chest. “I’m not saying I’m turning against her or drawing some line, Arden, I’m just saying that this isn’t right and you don’t have to do it. There’s no changing Gardula’s mind, but if you do this... if anyone does this, it’s something they can’t walk back from.”

Arden met her gaze and reached up to rest a hand upon her upper arm; he applied only the smallest amount of pressure, but that, and his phlegmatic demeanor, seemed to bring some sense of quiet within her. 

“You never answered my question this morning,” he said. That caught her off guard.

He could hear her echoing the question in her mind, even if she feigned misremebrance.

He repeated it once more out loud, his words delivered in a slow and deliberate manner. 

“Do you trust me, Xaria?”

Xaria couldn’t explain it, but she did; half of her wanted to blame it on some unseen sorcery that he must have used, and the other half simply knew it for what it was, and accepted it in silence. She swallowed, and answered him only with her eyes.

“Believe me... killing thousands of people for Gardula wasn’t part of my plan. There is a way to do this without a bloodbath, but I’ll need your help.”

“Then tell me the plan. No more secrets or lies about this.”

“Not here,” Arden answered. “Tonight, platform 92-16D4; there is a U-Wing on the back half of the landing pad. Meet me there and I’ll walk you through it.” He squeezed at her upper arm once more. 

“And that’s it? Just trust you and everything ends happily with no trouble,” Xaria asked.

“I never said  _ that _ . This is your line of work, you know better than me - even when things go perfectly, there’s always trouble. I’ll see you tonight.”

*

Xaria climbed into the back half of the U-Wing from the landing pad. Her gaze swept across the modified interior, and she surveyed what she was quick to recognize as Arden’s previous living quarters. The ship wasn’t messy, but it was far from being in top shape; wiring was exposed on the inside and scuff marks and carbon scoring marred the vessel’s hull. 

“I was wondering if you had backed out,” Arden called from the cockpit. 

The sound of his voice drew Xaria’s attention, but she stiffened as she spotted K8 looming in the front half of the ship, directly in her path. The Pyke insignia was still emblazoned on its chest plate, and it took a beat of Xaria’s heart for her to remember what she’d been told: the droid had been programmed for the intercept, and that it had all been staged.

“Not a chance,” Xaria breathed. She turned to palm the door switch, and then moved further in once the cabin was sealed. “So this is... what? Your home when you can’t afford rent?”

“It was my home  _ before _ I could afford rent,” Arden mused. He waved her towards the cockpit. “I’d give you a tour but we’re on the clock.”

Xaria climbed towards the cockpit, cautiously easing her way past K8 who stood rooted in place and simply watched on, its head tilting from side to side as it sized up the twi’lek. Once past the droid, Xaria parked herself into the co-pilot’s chair and turned to peer over at Arden; he tapped a few keys and a small projection sprung to life between their seats.

K8 shuffled closer and stood just behind the seats, something which brought a clear sense of unease for the twi’lek. Her shoulders hunched and she frequently glanced back to be sure that it wasn’t making any moves.

“The building that Gardula mentioned is here, the Dekkan Corps’ Sunset Eclipse Tower,” Arden explained as he gestured towards the hologram of the building.

Xaria nodded and reached out to manipulate the projection with her fingers. “It’s a super-tall skyscraper, roughly thirty five hundred meters tall, with almost two and a half million occupants. The targets we’ve been wanting to get a hold of are spread out on a large number of floors - there’s no way to hit them all without the others catching on.”

Arden nodded. “That’s what I figured; Gardula included the floor levels in the information she handed over. The problem is that you’ve all been trying to hit them inside the building.”

“They’ve had tight security,” Xaria affirmed, easing back in the chair as she watched and listened. “Any attempt to draw them out they see through, though.”

“So - we get them out of the building. A fire will kill thousands, and even if we torch the floors closest to the targets, it would be nearly impossible to figure out if they were actually killed or not. If we can get them outside, though, we can pick them off and confirm the kills.”

“And how do you expect to draw out a handful of targets in a building full of millions?”

“We gas the building; nothing lethal, but enough to drive people out. There are three platforms large enough for quick evacuation, and that’s where your targets will emerge.” Arden focused the projection on the three terraces which were all fixed to the sides of the tower at various heights. 

“Draw them out and pick them off in the chaos?”

Arden nodded, and then gestured towards the droid lurking behind them.

K8 leaned in and pressed a few keys on the console situated between the two pilots’ chairs. “There are five classifications of tenants in the building; all of the listed targets are classified high enough to access the terraces,” the droid recited. Images of the targets emerged and then rotated around the projection of the tower. “Standard procedure dictates lower classification occupants evacuate to the nearest of the three hundred different entrances that exit onto the various city levels.”

“Our targets are high enough classification to avoid those crowds,” Arden added, once again zooming in on the projection to focus on one of the platforms. “They evacuate to the terraces where private transports come to lift them away. We can get to them before that happens.”

“You mentioned gas,” Xaria replied while surveying the platforms.

K8 highlighted the various pumping stations located throughout the tower, and Arden nodded along while explaining.

“Correct. The tower’s ventilation systems will be the delivery method; we can impact enough floors in the tower to prompt an evacuation. Then, while the crowds are rushing out, we hit our marks before anyone notices and can sound the alarm.”

“Where are you getting enough gas to do this?”

Arden leaned back and folded both arms against his chest. “That’s where I need your help. TaggeCo delivers large volumes of Plystraban to power stations here on Nar Shaddaa. It’s mostly used for cooling down power reactors; it’s an ultra light gas that flows easily and can be tightly packed, but exposure to it can cause intense nausea and lightheadedness. There have been deaths, but only due to extensive exposure.”

“And you want to flood a super tower with it? That still doesn’t answer the question.”

“Plystraban is a low-density gas that’s non-flammable,” K8 interjected. “It will spread faster and farther, so only a limited amount is necessary to trigger an evacuation. Casualty estimates are low, however unforeseen consequences and complications may result in unintentional deaths from hazards such as crowd compression injuries, panic induced cardiac arrest, sprained and twi-”

“We get the idea, K8; thank you,” Arden said, cutting off the droid. “The point is that overall it’s a safer bet than lighting the whole tower up with a fire,  _ and _ we don’t run the risk of the security forces coming down on us after the fact. We don’t even need to involve the building owner because we won’t be destroying the place. It’s more work this way, but we’ll have more control over things.”

Xaria swung from side to side in the chair, considering the plan as she stared out through the cockpit window. The period of silence was unlike any of the ones which had come before between them, and Arden could tell, even without reaching out through the Force, that Xaria wasn’t sold on the plan. 

“What’s your hesitation,” he asked.

“You got a pass on the Niberius Swoop Gang because Gardula made the mistake of not specifying her wishes on the method you should use. She was clear this time that she wanted the tower burned.”

“And I will take the heat if she gets pissed off; it’s  _ my _ job, after all.”

“It’s not  _ your _ job, Arden, it’s a job that you’re  _ working on _ . Gardula has final say on everything, and going off and doing things your way may not be what she has in mind. If you screw something up, the consequences could reach further than either of us know. Gardula plays a lot close to her chest, and there’s no telling what else is in play.”

Arden ran both hands along the top of his scalp, nimbly dodging the horns as he leaned back in his chair. “Well.” A beat. “In that case, she’s shit out of luck. I’m making a decision on this, and if it gets me strung up, then I’ll deal with that next. But setting a whole tower ablaze is only going to create more problems, and I don’t need that kind of heat. I’m here for a job, not a prison sentence.”

Xaria retained the same look of skepticism that had taken root moments before.

Arden jabbed his finger at one of the console keys and the tower hologram faded into the image of a small freighter, along with a top down view of the district. He gestured towards the freighter, and then indicated a path through the cityscape.

“Look. TaggeCo delivers shipments of Plystraban to a major processing facility just outside of this district, and from there it’s repackaged in smaller canisters and then shipped to building managers on-planet. The plan is to hit a freighter in transit, steal one of the large industrial containers, and then flood the gas inside into the building’s ventilation systems.”

“And then you hit the targets when they emerge from the tower,” Xaria posited, her tone giving no indication that she was any more amenable to the idea than in the minutes prior. 

Arden nodded.

“It would keep heat off the syndicate,” Xaria conceded after another moment of consideration. “That’s just about the only upside to this that I can see. It would be easy enough to claim it was a malfunction with the canisters that the building management uses, but the building manager could blame Gardula all the same.”

“Why bother trying to pressure the business manager when we can just pin the blame on them?” Arden raised a hand to stroke at his jaw, and then leaned forward towards Xaria. “Tell them they can get on board with the plan and write it off as a malfunction with the ventilation systems,  _ or _ we pin the blame on them and make the claim they were in on the plan all along.” 

“Even still, Arden, I need to talk to Gardula about this,” Xaria replied. “It’s a huge break from what she’s expecting.”

“I didn’t tell you or Gardula about the swoop gang ahead of time because I don’t like being managed, and I don’t like being roadblocked. Going to Gardula makes this harder, maybe even impossible. If you want to do this without tens of thousands of people dying, or more, then you need to trust me. I’ll deal with the consequences after.”

Xaria rose up out of the seat and stepped closer, her expression stern and cold. 

“You don’t get to call the shots on this, Arden; you’re a hired thug, and that’s all. Don’t let your big head get in the way of things, or you’ll end up dead sooner than you can even make a footprint with Gardula,” Xaria chided.

“You’re the one who wanted me to not do it Gardula’s way.”

“No, Arden - I wanted you to  _ not _ take the job in the first place; I never imagined she’d even offer it to you.  _ You _ don’t get to chart the course forwards, though; if Gardula gives you a direction, you do it her way. If you take a job for her, you do it her way. All of us work for her, and if we don’t like it then tough shit, but no one in their right mind tries to go around her.”

“She owns your debt, Xaria, you don’t  _ work _ for her,” Arden replied. He didn’t rise to his feet to stand opposite from her, but he did straighten up in the pilot’s chair and set both hands on his knees. Eye to eye on opposite sides of the control console, a cold silence struck like a tuning fork, reverberating throughout the cabin. 

Arden was the one to break from the stalemate. “If this goes down her way, Xaria, you don’t get to walk back from it after the fact. Whether it blows over, or the authorities come after you all, it  _ will _ stay with you. You can survive a bruising and a scolding for going off script and improvising, but how would Gardula treat you if you backed out entirely? She might have covered you when you first came to her, but if she thinks you can’t follow through - what then?”

“I won’t lose my place here,” Xaria muttered through clenched teeth. “Not after all I’ve done to get this far; not knowing how much worse it could be.”

Arden stood and leaned forward, reaching out to grasp at her shoulders. “And I won’t let something like that happen because of me; I’ll take the heat if it goes sideways. But one way or another, this job happens; if it’s not me, it will be someone else, and they’re not going to come at it with a plan to avoid burning the whole thing down.”

“I’ve given you too much slack,” Xaria groaned. “It’s going to get me killed.”

Arden could only offer back a lopsided smile. “That’s called trust.” 

Xaria scoffed. “It’s overrated.” 

“All the same, I’ve got your back, but I need you to have mine on this. Are you in?”

It took another long moment of silence before Xaria offered her reply, and it came only after she’d given him a close inspection - trying to discern his truths and secrets, and the way his mind worked.

“When do we make the move?”


End file.
